


Finding Solace

by ficwriter103



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, peter and harley parent morgan when pepper is busy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficwriter103/pseuds/ficwriter103
Summary: Peter grieves for the mentor he never had enough time with, feeling alone, but there's always someone to help pick up the pieces. As Peter redefines his relationships with the people he loves, those touched by Tony band together to carry on his work and legacy, and maybe find love along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [j_gabrielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/gifts).



Their eyes meet over the coffee and hot chocolate passed around. Conversation swells and ebbs between the adults gathered there, but Harley and Peter are not a part of it. They are after all, from a different generation. Peter gets up, uncomfortable around people he never knew well. Tony might have been his mentor, but he has scarcely any contact with the Avengers, or any of the other SHIELD agents here. And he can't bother Pepper while she's comforting Morgan. They have better, bigger things to do.

He wipes his hands on his pants and leaves the room, taking his hot chocolate with him.

"Hey," Harley says, catching up to him outside.

"H-Hey," Peter replies. What do you say to someone you barely know? What do you do after you come home to find the world has tried to move on without you? Five years, people have been gone for five years. People have grown for five years but he's still the same.

"Peter Parker, right?" Harley asks, as if he doesn't know. Peter knows for a fact that Harley does, Pepper mentioned another kid in passing, someone who Tony was fond of as well, who helped to put a few pieces of Tony back together after the ... the thing. Peter had been the one to call him and ask him to come for the funeral.

"You're Harley," Peter says.

"Harley Keener," the other boy says. He offers Peter a tentative fist. Peter bumps it weakly.

"Mr. Stark is really gone," Peter says, staring down at the swirl of milk in his drink. The white contrasts the dark brown of the chocolate in a pretty way.

"Yeah." Harley fiddles with his own cup, leaning against the door to look out at the woods.

He doesn't offer any platitudes, no 'he's in a better place', and 'he's always in our hearts', or 'he would have wanted us to move on'. Harley just lets out a breath of what feels like resignation.

"You know, I have four potato canons, but only three people to use them," Harley says instead. The offhanded remark startles a laugh out of Peter.

"I added some pressurized carbon dioxide and used silicone for a better seal but I need someone to help me graph the aperture for maximum potato-fitability so that the canon can fire three spuds at a time," Harley continues "Since Morgan's too small to know what a fraction is..." he trails off.

Peter looks up from his drink.

It still aches, his chest. It feels like there's a weight on him. All the words he never got to say, all the things he wanted to do, never knowing if he had been good enough for Tony. It hurts fiercely. But somehow, it's a little easier to breathe when Harley's standing beside him. 

"I think I can help you with that," Peter says, offering Harley a shaky smile.

* * *

 

May Parker does not want to let Peter out of her sight for longer than necessary. Even persuading her to let him go back to school is a chore. Teachers, educators, governments struggle to coordinate the return of so many people. For children and teens who disappeared and now reappeared, how do they make up their school work? Do they stick to their old syllabi? Are they eligible for college now that they're technically 18? Someone who's ID says they're 21 might not actually be 21 because they spent 5 years gone. Do permanent staff get their jobs back? If they don't, do they get a severance package? Do doctors have to retake their medical exam? Do the apartments rented out to new people have to be returned? Do the economies that flagged due to the lack of workers and spending power suddenly regain their stability? What about the people who perished in cars or planes crashed when drivers disappeared? Are airlines liable? How does insurance work now? Are the returned still eligible for the premiums they paid? There are a million questions and problems popping up everywhere.

Peter can't do much except focus on the one in front of him: going back to school.

Midtown now has an accelerated program. There's a class called 'Civic Classes' that details the happenings over the past 5 years. It contains the bare basics of what the newly returned students need to get into college. Apparently, in the years that Peter has gone, Science has marched on. There are bigger phones, better watches, glow in the dark cats, and a blackhole picture. There are new discoveries, new technology. Some even are Stark Tech.

The only upside to this sudden return is that most of the accelerated classes no longer give long assignments or projects, focusing instead on cramming students full of knowledge so that they too can move on with their lives instead of watching those they once called peers get ahead in the race.

Peter tests out of the hard sciences like Chemistry, Biology, AP Mathematics, and Physics, but has to continue in History, Geology, Spanish, and English for at least another six months before he can take his A-levels and make an attempt at university. He'll have to scrounge up enough for tuition but there are always loans, right? All that matters is that the world is finally moving on. Or trying to, at least.

It makes Peter feel uneasy in a restless, unsure kind of way. It feels like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't know what.

Ned had gone to MIT and was the one who created the new phone tracking apps that helped people stay in contact. He had also created several grief and relief apps for people who needed to mourn or needed help of any sort. MJ had gone to Columbia and was in the middle of getting her double degree. Word had it she tutored kids in her free time to make up for the teachers who disappeared. Cindy Moon, attempting the bar next year, gave a lot of legal advice to people pro bono. Betty Brant, getting her special ed diploma in September. Even Flash Thompson had moved on, joining a community college just to stay close to his grieving mother. He was one of the teens who started the movement to coordinate clean up in the city and take care of the community gardens that had become neglected when their owners disappeared. The people he knew the most are gone, not  _gone-_ gone, but still just ... gone.

Peter's accelerated classes are filled with classmates that he doesn't quite know, familiar enough for a quick hi-bye in the hallway, but not familiar enough for chatting to unless it's during Therapy.

Peter dreads school now. He only pushes past it because he can't get to university otherwise. He's faced with dozens of students who feel exactly the same way.

Only texting Harley seems to ease his mood.

 **PeterP** : _So, how were the calulations?_  
**Hkeener** : _The graph worked. 98 out of 100 potatoes can fit in the cannister and spud speeds have hit maximum velocity. Morgan has pretty good aim. You should come see._

The thing about the family is that Peter has never really gotten to know Pepper Potts. Not as well as he would have liked. It feels strange to visit the house of someone not quite close yet not a stranger. Pepper tells him to come over as often as he likes, but it feels like he's intruding on her grief. That maybe, she resents him for coming back, but not Tony. 

 **HKeener:** _You're overthinking bud. Just come over on the weekend. Pep needs to go to Malibu for REASONS and she's leaving the Morgster with me for an afternoon. It'll be fun._  
**PeterP** : _I'll have to ask May._  
**PeterP** : _She said no_.  
**Hkeener** : _wtfbbq u din even ask_.  
**PeterP** : _maybe so_.  
**HKeener:** _That meme is five years old_  
**PeterP** : _... maybe so_.  
**Hkeener** : _D: <_

Peter laughs. It dies away quickly in his throat. He's only a year older than Peter but the other boy's in uni, tutoring children, running some of SI's operations, tinkering in SI's labs and helping to raise Morgan. Peter's still stuck in  _highschool_.

"Aunt May!" he hollers out the door of his room. He waits until he hears a 'Yes honey?' before continuing.

"Mrs Potts needs a babysitter this weekend and Harley invited me to help."

May appears in the doorway, dishrag still in her hands. She smiles, happy that Peter seems to be holding strong.

"Sure of course, just text me when you leave, halfway there, and then when you get to the house," May says. Despite her smile, there are worry lines. Peter always has to remind her that Tony gave his life and Steve put back all the stones, but it seems she's still skittish about Peter's disappearance. Still, she's trying to be reasonable about it as the world tries to regain its footing.

Peter shakes his head as if that can get the thoughts out. There's no time to dwell. When half the world disappeared, so did the crime, for a certain amount of time. But then when half the world came back, the crime also came back. Queens is teeming with life again, and Peter will be damned before he lets anything hurt it again. Including its own citizens.

Queens needs Spiderman. Peter is Spiderman. Ergo Queens needs Peter and Peter can't just sit around feeling sorry for himself.

Peter opens his closet and stares at the suits in it.

All the previous outfits he received from Tony are still there. May couldn't bear to throw them away. They hang between his formal shirts and his slacks like some beacon. Peter reaches out and runs his hand down the fabric.

His chest hurts again.

Karen, the suit, the watch, the phone, everything. Imprints of Tony left behind.

Peter takes a deep breath and pulls on the mask.

"Hello Peter," Karen greets him.

"How are you doing?" Peter asks.

There's a silence before Karen replies.

"I miss him, Peter." She sounds lost, unsure.

"I do too," Peter says. He sits on the bed, just staring at the suits for another moment.

"Can AIs experience grief?" Karen asks. Her voice is uncharacteristically subdued, small.

"I think you are, right now." Peter reaches out and selects one of the older suits. Not the Iron Spider. He can't, not right now.

"When does this protocol terminate?" Karen asks.

All the Google searches in the world cannot answer that question.

"I don't know, Karen," Peter says honestly. He presses the emblem on the suit and feels it conform to his body. "All I know is there's no one else left to take care of New York, so we gotta do it."

It seems to cheer her up a little. Tony's gone but Queens is still around. Mr Delmar is still making sandwiches. The old crotchety lady across the street still always needs help getting her groceries up the stairs. Muggings need to be stopped. Robbers need to be apprehended. 

"You and me, Karen. Just us now," Peter repeats, more for his own benefit than hers.

"Of course, Peter. Just us now."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Friday rolls around, Peter has completed all of his homework, stopped 4 muggings, 3 break-ins, 5 robberies, and 2 thefts. He's also helped 2 lost children find their parents, and saved a cat from a tree. The familiarity of swinging around Queens is offset by how strange it feels to not have Ned in the chair, chatting to Peter as he stops crime. Ned is in another state, another stage of his life. He can't wait for Peter forever.

Some things stay the same though.

Reports of Daredevil dot the news sporadically. Peter wisely stays on his side of New York for now. He's slowly getting back into the swing of things. According to his brief look into the past 5 years, the horned vigilante has been patrolling on and off, showing up all over New York until the Avengers came back, whereupon he retreated back to Hell's Kitchen again. His excursions have lessened greatly and it seems he too is working through something personal.

The Daily Bugle starts ripping on superheroes again. They lambast Bruce Banner for being a green bare-footed menace who's spreading jiggers, and accuse Sam Wilson of being black lives matter propaganda. Peter doesn't have enough energy to care. He just feels mildly annoyed that precious resources are being used by this poor excuse of a newspaper.

Deadpool shows up briefly and falls off a ledge. Peter waits with him while his body puts itself back together, listening to Deadpool rant about being gone and wishing he'd stayed dead. He lets Deadpool cry on his shoulder for awhile and warns the mercenary off killing anyone-yes even the bad guys!

Peter scrolls through the news alerts and updates on his phone as he rides the bus to the city's edge where Pepper Potts lives, keeping track of who's where. Wanda's helping rebuild the Compound. Bruce has started teaching university classes somewhere. Steve has gone off the grid completely. Sam's smoothing over ruffled feathers with Bucky in different countries. Dr Strange has disappeared again. Clint trains SHIELD recruits while Scott and Hope consult for the shadowy organization. T'Challa is attending peace talks in the Middle East while Shuri is ruling at home. Thor left to 'find himself', putting Brunhilde in charge of New Asgard. Carol went to check on the other planets. The Guardians of the Galaxy have all left as well, guarding other places in the galaxy. There's a handful of new supers who popped up after the undoing of the... the thing. It's unclear if they're going to be persisting in the hero business or not. For now, in the immediate moment, Spiderman is still the only one who's consistently going on patrol. He worries about crime increasing when he's gone, and Karen tells him dryly that he's having separation anxiety. It sounds weird, but she's right. He's been ripped away once. He's scared of being ripped away the second time.

"It'll be fine, right?" Peter asks his phone. Karen reassures him for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Yes, Peter, the city will be fine."

* * *

 

When Peter disembarks from the bus, his calves are assaulted by a tiny four-year old going ' _pederpederpederpeder_ '.

He looks down in surprise then bends over to lift up the little girl.

"Hello, Morgan!"

She crows in delight when Peter settles her on his shoulders and gives her a little bounce.

"Hey," Harley says, pushing his hair out of his face. There's a smile on his lips as he regards Peter. "Pep's gone on ahead. Said something about turning the Malibu mansion into a museum slash workshop for young engineers in memory of Tony."

It feels like the air has been sucked from Peter's lungs.

Tony.

Tony's Malibu house.

Peter had been vaguely aware that Tony still owned the building but he hadn't thought about it until now. Pepper had to decide what to do with all of Tony's possessions. The compound, his cars, his suits... everything. Would she keep them?

No, no that was none of his business. It wasn't Peter's place to ask.

"How is Mrs Potts?" Peter asks instead, crossing the distance to the car. Morgan's old enough to hold on by herself and Peter doesn't need to worry about her falling off.

"Holding up," Harley sighs. Up close, Peter can see the worried line in Harley's forehead.

"Mommy's sad a lot," Morgan says from her perch on Peter's shoulders. She puts her chin on his head and tugs lightly on Peter's hair.

"Are you sad, Morgie-porgie?" Peter asks, giving her another bounce before pulling her down and trying to put her in the carseat.

"A lil-" Morgan's earlier exuberance at meeting him has faded away. She frowns and sticks her thumb into her mouth, nibbling at her nail "Daddy can't play with me," she adds in a tiny voice.

Peter shoots Harley a desperate look.

"Peter's going to show you some really cool stuff later, alright Morgie-porgie?" Harley says, giving her a pat on the head then getting into the driver's seat. Peter gets in on the other side. Morgan seems to be contemplating Harley's promise.

"Can we have tea time?" she asks.

"Anything you want, Morgie-porgie." Harley starts the car.

 

* * *

 

They end up playing tea time. Morgan's earlier sadness is forgotten when she pours milk chocolate for Harley and Peter. They sit around a pretty blue table with stuffed toys and pretend to discuss matters in Toylandia. Peter does manage to make some tiny peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so they can snack while they play. Morgan enjoys the scenario and she absolutely loves pouring the drinks from her little bright green teapot.

Peter mouths ' _what_ ' at Harley when she brings it out. Harley chortles and mouths ' _Go along with it_ '. The teapot is a truly hideous shade of neon green. Peter can't believe someone actually thought up this design and brought it to the market. He also can't believe that either Tony or Pepper had allowed this in their house.

After snacks, they let Morgan run around with her small potato gun. Harley says it's a potato gun but it actually fires garlic or onions instead. Harley is right. She does have pretty good aim for a four year old and she approaches her target with a single minded focus that reminds Peter of how Tony gets in the lab.

In one afternoon, Peter has become ' _Pederpeder_ ' and he knows everything about Morgan including her favourite animal, colour, scrunchie, dress, shorts, towel, everything. He also knows she likes classic rock songs and loves digging in the dirt for wormie-squirmies. 

Pepper calls after dinner. Morgan sits in front of the holographic display and manipulates the hardlight until Pepper's face is twice as large as life because Morgan thinks it's funnier this way.

"Heya sweetie! Did you have a good time with Peter?"

"Pederpeder!" Morgan crows, nodding. "We had tea time and then we used the garlic to hit the targets and I got all of them bullseyes but there was this yellow on the log and I wanted to hold but Pederpeder said it was poisoning and i shouldn't touch it but I used the pinchies to take some and put it in a jar and we'll see if it opens like umbrellas or spores like a poofball-"

Pepper laughs and smiles while her daughter talks a mile a minute. Peter leans against the back of the couch and gives Pepper a weak wave.

"When are you coming back, mommy?" Morgan ends her chatter with a quiet plea.

"Sunday afternoon sweetie. You get to play with Harley and Peter _aaaaaaaalll_ day tomorrow and Sunday morning. Isn't that exciting?" Pepper says.

Morgan looks only slightly mollified by the thought. She throws herself sideways on the couch cushions and kicks off her shoes.

"More fun with daddy," she says.

Pepper breathes in sharply.

"Oh sweetie -"

"Night mommy," Morgan interrupts her, giving the holo a little wave.

"Night baby, I'll be home soon," Pepper says.

Harley swoops in and scoops Morgan up, tickling her sides as he settles her on his hip.

"Bath time for little porgies," he says, taking her upstairs. Peter gets up to follow.

"Peter-"

Peter stops in his tracks.

Pepper looks at him, sadness etched into her face. She moves something on her end and the holograph changes again until it's like she's standing right in front of him in the living room.

"Thanks for coming to help out."

"Um yeah, anything to help Mrs Potts." Peter can't look at her. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and shuffles his feet.

"Peter look at me."

He can't. He can't do it. His mentor's grieving widow. 

"Peter please?"

"I'm sorry!" The words spill out.

"What for?" Pepper asks.

"I could have, _should've_ \- maybe if I- I shouldn't have-" There's too much to say. Peter's sorry for being here. Earth needs Ironman more than it needs Spiderman. Why does Peter get to live when a good man doesn't? The pressure on his sternum feels like it's going to cave his chest. It hurts. It hurts so much.

"He should have lived I shouldn't have Mrs Potts I'm sorry." He hardly dares to meet her eyes.

"But he didn't," Pepper says. She sound so, so tired. "He talked about you, Peter. How you would change the world, how you were the future. He did his part. Now it's your turn to do yours. That's how you make it up to me, up to him. Show us it was worth it."

Peter sucks in a breath. The ache fades just a little. He finally raises his eyes to look at Pepper.

"Mrs Potts, I -"

"We're still in the middle of executing the will," Pepper says "But I'd like you to be there when that happens. He made provisions for you. A lab in SI. College funds. A room at the compound."

Peter is in the will? What? How? He blinks rapidly, feeling the familiar prickle of tears.

"He, I, I _don't_ , I _don't deserve_ -"

Pepper laughs, sharp and clear.

"If everyone got what they deserved, better men would be alive, bad men would be in jail." She smiles at him "It's not about what you think you deserve, Peter. It's about what he wanted to give you. You and Harley both." She reaches out. Her image's hand ghosts over Peter's hair.

"Don't be a stranger, Peter. You have always, and will always, be welcome in our home."

She takes a step backwards and fades away. Peter collapses to the floor and gasps for breath, tears making dark spots on the carpet.

"Peter, do you need assistance?" Friday asks. Peter cannot answer her, the waves of pain and grief crash over him, dragging him out and under into an ocean of longing and regret. Peter cries quietly, muffling his sobs with hands over his mouth. He won't disturb Morgan. Morgan can't know. Her new friend 'Pederpeder' should be a happy friend, not a sad friend.

From upstairs, there's a crash and a squeal of laughter.

"Get back here you demon! You're still soapy!"

Peter gathers himself quickly, wiping his tears away. Morgan appears at the top of the stairs, one arm through the neckhole of a shirt, suds sliding down her face from her hair.

"Pederpeder help!" Morgan giggles. Peter takes the stairs two at a time and scoops her up.

"I hear a Morgie-porgie but I see a soapy monster instead!" he says. Morgan laughs.

"It's me, Pederpeder!"

"Did the soap monster eat Morgan?" Peter feigns surprise, hoping that the redness of his face doesn't show. If it does, Morgan doesn't comment. She laughs and giggles as he puts her under his arm and carries her back to the bathroom.

Harley is soaked, his pants covered in suds. Peter can see the outline of his body under the big shirt and sweatpants.

"Harls, I caught a sudster! Maybe if I put it in the water, it will evolve into a Morgan!"

Harley laughs, taking Morgan from Peter. He pulls off the shirt she had been trying to put on, then starts scooping out water from the tub, rinsing the suds from Morgan's hair.

Between the two of them, Morgan is washed, clean, and dressed for bed in only 15 minutes.

"I want a story, Pederpeder." Morgan pouts when they put her to bed.

Harley nods and goes to leave.

"No! Harley has to hold my hand and Pederpeder has to tell me a story!"

Harley gives Peter a look that's half amused, half exasperated, but 100% fond.

"Okay Morgie-porgie."

He sits really close to Peter. Peter can smell his cologne and hear his breathing. It's kind of distracting. Still, Peter picks a book and shows it to Morgan with a flourish.

"Once upon a time- "

 

\---

 


	3. Chapter 3

Peter doesn't really sleep. He can't, not when Harley's in the bed next to him.

Tony's house is huge, but it isn't as big as the mansion or the tower. There are only two guest rooms, one upstairs and one downstairs but Harley and Peter agree that they would prefer to be closer to Morgan's room if she wakes in the middle of the night.

Peter dozes instead, slipping in and out of consciousness, hyper aware of the warm person lying next to him. Harley smells like the rose scented body wash from the shower. His breaths are slow and even, deep in slumber. Every time Peter's brain rouses, he looks over at Harley's face.

Harley's sleep isn't peaceful.

His brow furrows and he mumbles things like _'stupid merger'_ and _'business proposal_ ' and ' _sorry professor_ ' in his sleep. It's more proof of how far Peter needs to run to catch up.

Around 5 in the morning, Peter's senses tingle and he opens his eyes, completely alert. He hears the tiny pit-pat of tiny feet in the hallway. He gets up out from under the covers and opens the door just a crack to see who's there. 

Morgan is sitting, a stuffed Ironbear clutched to her chest, in front of her parent's room. She doesn't cry, just sits there in her rumpled pajamas, staring at the door with a great solemnity that shouldn't be on a face that young.

"Morgan, do you need help?" Friday asks gently.

Morgan shakes her head.

"Mommy's coming back right?"

"Of course, Morgan. Tomorrow afternoon. Her flight will arrive at 2:30pm." Friday projects a countdown timer and the itinerary onto the wall. Morgan stares at the flight number and the time, then looks up to where a camera is installed.

"You promise, Friday?"

"I promise."

Peter's heart is heavy. He lost a mentor. But he still has friends, his aunt. He still has Ned, MJ, even if they're far away. He still has people to talk to.

The entirety of Morgan's life had revolved mostly around her parents. To have one ripped away had to be terrible. Half of her world disappeared just like that and she was too young to really understand why.

Peter pads over to her and sinks down to sit beside her. 

He doesn't say anything, just lets her cuddle up to his side. 

"Pederpeder won't leave too, right?" Her tiny fingers curl into a fist in his baggy shirt.

Peter shakes his head. He can't lie to this kid.

"I gotta go to school Morgie-porgie. So does Harley. But we'll come over as often as we can."

"Saturdays?" Morgan asks.

Peter nods. 

"Every Saturday we can."

She's smart enough to know that doesn't mean every Saturday, but she lets it slide.

"And can I come visit your house, Pederpeder?" 

"As long as your mom says yes," Peter promises. He'll do whatever it takes to keep this little girl's heart intact for as long as he can. 

Peter ruffles her hair.

"Say Morgan, why do you like me?" He asks, curious. As far as he knows, the little girl saw him for the first time a day or two before the funeral and they barely spoke.

Morgan turns to look at him, dark eyes full of seriousness.

"Daddy likes you," she says as a matter-of-factly "We watch videos sometimes." Her tiny fingers squish the paws of her bear.

"What videos?" 

Friday coughs lightly. 

"Boss has a collection of videos of you downloaded from various sources on the Internet. All videos of your escapades as well."

Without waiting for Peter to ask, she projects some onto the white wall.

 

 

> " _Ned, Ned, hey Ned! Whoowee this set is amazing_!" It's Peter enthusiastically holding up a 3000 piece lego set. Ned whoops as well and they race to the counter to buy it. The counter girl rolls her eyes at their exuberance.
> 
> Peter, doodling on a sheet in class, unaware of the fact that there's a leaf stuck on the back of his head. There's a cut to MJ's sketch of a leaf in Peter's hair.
> 
> A video of Peter answering questions in the Academic Decathlon during the sudden death round. He nails the final question on Latin phrases. The audience is a mix of boos and cheers.
> 
> A short clip of Peter snoring on the couch in May's apartment, taken by May as she uses a feather to tickle his nose. He mumbles ' _No touchie'_ in his sleep and turns around, showing a healing bruise on the other side of his face. May giggles softly and Peter grumbles some more.
> 
> " _Peter I swear to god you stop petting that dog or else_ -" " _But Aunt May he needs the scritches_!", and Ned laughing in the background while Peter gives the mongrel a good scratch behind the ears. May turns to the camera with a look of fond exasperation.

"Are you sad, Pederpeder?" Morgan reaches out to touch his face. She pats his cheeks and tugs on his curls.

Peter tries to smile but he's pretty sure he doesn't do a good job of it. There's salt on his lips, sliding down his chin.

"I'm sad, but I'm happy too." Peter lets her wipe his tears away. He hadn't been forgotten. Tony had remembered him, seen him as someone dear enough for a video collection, dear enough to introduce to his daughter. People didn't make video collections of interns or employees, they made video collections of friends and family. 

"Harley was sad happy too when he saw his videos."

Friday queues another video in response.

 

 

> It's Harley facing off with a boy much bigger than him, there's shouting and swearing and Harley pulls out a miniature crossbow and nails the dude in the forehead with a tiny sponge bolt... that sticks to the guy's skin upon contact. People are laughing as Harley sticks the guy with more and more and more neon coloured bolts. " _You don't ever touch her again you hear me_?" He snarls, the other guy is desperately trying to rip the things off but they're stuck fast. It cuts to Harley sitting in the principal's office, looking smug.
> 
> Harley tearing open letter after letter, getting accepted into different universities. ' _Full ride! Mom! A full ride! Wait till I tell Tony!_ ' He waves the papers in the air. One says Caltech, the other says MIT. 
> 
> Harley playing with a younger girl on the beach, hoisting her up, swinging her around, running toward the camera ' _Mom, the water's great_!', then ' _Abbey get away from that jellyfish_!'. There's a lot of splashing, a cut to Harley sitting in a hole being slowly covered by sand.
> 
> A more recent one, Harley cradling a newborn in his arms, looking absolutely terrified. ' _You're doing great_ ,' Pepper says from off screen. Harley shakes his head quickly ' _Pep if I drop her_ -' ' _You won'_ t!'

"That's me when I was little," Morgan says, pointing. Friday pauses the video so that Morgan can pat the image of the newborn. She turns around and peers up at Peter, then pokes the corners of his mouth. This time, his smile feels more natural. He feels strangely light for the first time in days.

"You're still little!" Peter says, poking her in the side. Morgan giggles, swatting his hand away. 

"Yeah but I was littler then," she says, getting to her feet.

"I want pancakes," she adds, squeezing her Ironbear. Peter studies her face for a little while, then nods.

"Let me guess, blueberries?"

"Mmhmm!" She sticks up her arms in a clear indication of 'Up'.

Peter laughs and obliges her. 

* * *

 

Harley pads into the kitchen around 7, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Morgan pelts him with a blueberry. It bounces off Harley's nose, making him yelp in surprise.

His look of utter befuddlement is hilarious.

"Friday, please tell me you got that," Peter says, grinning. 

"Of course, Peter. Shall I send it to your phone?" 

"Please do."

Harley glares at him but crosses the kitchen to give Morgan a good morning hug.

"Your aim is getting better!" He squeezes the girl close before stealing the blueberries away. She whines in protest.

"Any pancakes for me?" Harley asks, eyeing the mess in the kitchen. There's flour everywhere, eggshells in and around the bin, both white and brown sugar spilled on the counter. Peter's still a little clean-ish because he's wearing an apron but Morgan's dark hair is gray with the amount of flour in it.

"We're experiwenting," Morgan says, waving a piece of stained paper around. Harley's eyebrows shoot up into his fringe.

Her handwriting isn't great but it's legible. There are scribbles and doodles but it has a column that says things like 20% more flour, 20% baking soda, 1 extra egg white, brown sugar, white sugar. Next to it, there's another column that says things like 'too chewy', 'bitter', and 'super yummy'. Then there's a rating column. The one with baking soda has a 0 and the one with 2 egg whites has a 10.

Peter slides a plate over to Harley.

"We binned the baking soda ones, these are the extra egg white, extra fluffy ones."

Harley takes the plate and grabs the maple syrup, practically drowning the stack in it before picking up a fork and chowing down. 

"Imma write a paper, Harley," Morgan tells him seriously, "Imma be first author on pancakes and angry-dents, just like uncle Bruce!" she waves her fork around and spears another bit of pancake. Harley gives Peter a look of ' _This kid_ ', a grin stretched across his handsome face. Peter smiles back.

"You wanna turn into a giant  _rage monster_ like uncle Bruce?" Harley asks, tickling her. Morgan squeals kicks out at him.

"No no no! Uncle Bruce says we gotta embrace our emotions!" She laughs. 

Peter grabs his own plate and sits down opposite them. A Roomba pops out from the lowest compartment of the kitchen cabinets and starts cleaning up all the mess. Peter pulls up his feet so he won't get hit in the shins. 

"So how bout this, Morgie-porgie. After breakfast, I give you a quick shower, just to get you young again, then we go to the lab and play fetch with the bots, how's that sound?" Harley pulls Morgan onto his lap and lets her make a mess of the pancakes on his plate. She alternates between putting them in her mouth and his mouth. 

"Uh-huh I wanna say hi to You and Buttapings and Dum-E and also I wanna finish my drawings."

' _Drawings?'_ Peter mouths at Harley over her head.

Harley grins and mouths back ' _You'll see_ '.

 

* * *

 

The bots greet Morgan enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically. Peter's afraid they'll roll over her tiny feet but she dances out of the way each time, giggling. He and Harley greet the bots as well, giving them pets as Morgan goes to retrieve a ball.

After playing fetch and blend with them for half an hour, Morgan sits down at a tiny table and a cup of freshly blended carrot juice. There are crayons and markers scattered across the table, but the thing that catches Peter's attention is the schematics scribbled in a child's shaky hand.

With a flourish that could have only been learned from her father, she pulls it from the surface into a floating display. Her tiny fingers trace out the symbol for a light bulb, a resistor, a transformer, an LED.

Peter's awed. He sits down on the floor next to her. 

"Whacha making, Morgan?" he breathes out quietly.

"A dollhouse" she says nonchalantly. "See here's my lab, I'm going to put lights here, and here, and here." She smiles at Peter, then starts to draw in earnest. 

For an electrical engineer, this would have been something simple. But she's four and from what Peter can see, her schematic is for a triple story dollhouse, things that most four year olds wouldn't be doing.

"She was down here from the moment she could sit upright," Harley says softly, coming to sit beside Peter and Morgan. The little girl doesn't hear, too absorbed in adding more lights and a fan.

"Learned on her daddy's knee. I had to help her crunch the numbers to calculate some of the values for the resistors and transformers but the layout is a hundred percent her idea." Harley continues. He must have put on cologne again because he smells incredibly good. Peter can't help but take a deep breath even as he admires the way Morgan slowly adds bits and bobs to the diagram. 

Harley pulls his phone out and shows Peter a video.

 

 

> A younger Morgan is sitting at the same table. There's a very badly drawn simple diagram in the air but Morgan giggles and says ' _Run simation!"_ and Friday does. The first trial doesn't work. Neither does the second. But when Morgan tweaks the wiring a little, her third try is predicted to be a success. The simulation shows three separate lights lighting up. ' _Sweetie! That's incredible!'_ Tony's voice comes from off camera. The camera zooms in on Morgan's pleased face. Her thumb goes into her mouth and she looks over at the person holding the camera with eyes full of adoration. 

"She saw enough of Tony's schematics to pick up a few things." Harley indicates the shelf in the corner. "First LED circuit, DIY transformer, night light, voice recorder, everything."

"She's incredible," Peter says.

"She is," Harley agrees, a faraway look in his eyes.

Peter looks over at the older boy, then bumps his shoulder.

"Are you doing okay? I mean, you and him had more history. Must hurt."

Harley rubs his face.

"Some days I feel like I can't breath. Like it's some cosmic joke and he'll fly down in his suit and go 'Surprise, kid!', and I'll be super pissed." He sighs. "But that's not going to happen this time, is it?" 

Peter shakes his head. He knows the feeling intimately. And he feels a little guilty about not checking up on Harley earlier.

"I gotta be more careful now, keep reminding myself that he's not here to bail me out if things go sideways. Thursday, I was prototyping a new eco-friendly hoverbike and the thing just wouldn't stabilize enough to start the forward thrust, and I thought to myself, i should call Tony," Harley laughs, it sounds jarring, pained. "Then I realized he's not here anymore."

Morgan looks up at the mention of her Dad's name, towards the station where Tony would probably stand if he was there. Then she realizes that her Dad's gone and her face falls.

"I miss Daddy," Morgan says. She abandons her schematics and flings herself into the space between Harley and Peter. She doesn't cry, just hugs the both of them tightly.

"Don't go Harley, don't go Peter, don't leave me alone," she repeats several times until both Harley and Peter are assuring her that they're not going to leave forever. 

"Come on Morgie-porgie, let's go watch some cartoons," Harley says at last. Morgan lets herself be picked up, her head laying listlessly on Harley's shoulder as he carries her upstairs. The bots wave goodbye and she waves back half-heartedly. Peter saves the schematic, minimizes it, then follows them up the stairs.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated

Morgan's quiet, sitting on the couch while watching Peppa Pig. Her IronBear is back in her arms and even though her eyes are following the cartoon, her heart doesn't seem to be in it. 

All attempts to cheer her up fall short. She won't say anything and won't even look at Harley or Peter. Peter doesn't know what to do. He can only sit beside her and cuddle her tight.

Harley sits at the counter, but keeps casting worried looks over to Morgan. His attention is divided between his Stark tablet and the little four year old.

From what Peter can see, it's an acquisition of a small manufacturer. He wonders if Harley will take over research and development. Pepper will be CEO for a long time yet, Peter will do his damn best to ensure that, and Morgan will inherit the company eventually, but the company must be reeling from the loss of its founder.

Morgan cuddles into Peter's side and Peter strokes her hair gently. Her tiny mouth is turned down and she looks solemn.

His phone lights up briefly with a notification. Peter unlocks it and then raises an eyebrow at the sender. He looks over at Harley, who seems to be engrossed in his work.

 **Hkeener** : _u working on nything special?_

Peter keeps stroking Morgan's hair and uses the other to type.

 **PeterP** : _wut_  
**Hkeener** : _Spideystuff_  
**PeterP** : _i keep forgetting u no abt that nw_  
**Hkeener** : _nt hrd to deduce_  
**PeterP** : _dun hv a lab, cnt work on nything_  
**Hkeener** : _D: D: < unacceptable! <lemongrab.gif>_  
**PeterP** : _: < _  
**Hkeener** : _Check this out <cheesegif>_

Peter smothers his laugh at the picture of Morgan, with the text ' _Can I has cheezburger_ ' over it.

 **PeterP** : _that_ _meme's older than us._    
**Hkeener** : _ehehehehe ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

Peter glances over to Harley again. The older boy is now smiling down at his tablet, typing away.

"What's funny?" Morgan asks, looking up at Peter with wide dark brown eyes. She must have felt the vibrations from his chest.

Peter shows her the cheeseburger meme. She's too young to understand it but she smiles a little.

"I like cheeseburgers," she says, patting Peter on the arm. She grabs a fistful of his shirt and tugs until he leans down, then tells him loudly "Daddy likes Burger King but I like McDonald's more."

Peter laughs, even as his heart stutters. It's such a small detail but it burns right into his memory, the things that made Tony uniquely Tony. Even something as insignificant as a cheeseburger holds fond memories for him. Going to the Drive-thru with flashy convertibles, top down, Tony somehow managing to drive and eat at the same down while not spilling anything but Peter kept dropping fries on the carpet. And Tony hadn't even been mad. He had muttered about teens being messy eaters but grinned at Peter.

"Morgan Stark, the true heir, known to all for her love of cheeseburgers," Peter says as he gazes down at Morgan. Her warm chocolate eyes, the set of her mouth, her curly hair, it all screams Tony. She gives him a tentative smile. 

"Billionaire, could have anything he wants, chooses cheeseburger," Harley complains half-heartedly. 

"Yeah, he could have at least had the decency to like some gourmet burgers made with 24 karat gold or something," Peter adds. His snark jolts a laugh out of Harley, who looks surprised at himself. The older boy - no, not a boy any longer, the young man -looks at Peter with a new sense of appreciation. He gets up from his chair and switches his tablet off, coming to sit on the other side of Morgan.

"He made Happy drive him to fast food restaurants at all hours," Harley says, "Drove Pepper insane."

"Did you see the video of him in the Donut?" Peter asks. Harley chortles, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and effectively around Peter's shoulders, his hand a warm weight that's _just_ off Peter's skin. Peter breathes in a little too sharply. 

"Yeah! Did you see the one where he took the suit through a Drive-thru?" Harley is grinning. Peter can't help but grin too. Mirth bubbles up in Peter's chest at the memory, spilling out as he giggles. Tony was ridiculous! Such an incredible mind, unimaginable tech, and he used it for silly tasks. For all that Peter knew about Tony, he still understood very little. That didn't stop him from missing him fiercely. 

"I want McDonald's cheeseburger," Morgan pipes up suddenly. Peter and Harley's brief moment of frivolity seems to have lightened her mood as well. She slides off the couch and sets her IronBear down carefully. Then she patters off to dig through the drawers for the keys.

"We're probably supposed to feed her something healthier," Peter hedges. Harley lets his hand drop to Peter's shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. 

"Just this once, kay Pete?" Harley is smiling "I'm just glad she seems to be -" 

Morgan crows in delight, holding up the car keys. 

"-happier," Harley finishes, getting up to grab his wallet. He holds out his hand and Morgan takes it quickly.

"You coming?"

* * *

Morgan finishes off her cheeseburger on a bench in the park, legs kicking as she watches older children play. She doesn't seem inclined to join the other kids, content to simply chew and snuggle between Harley and Peter. Peter guesses that it's the abandonment issues. She's probably scared of losing even more people. Peter can't really remember his father, but he remembers losing Uncle Ben. The hurt has dulled but it still aches when Peter thinks about it. The nights following Uncle Ben's death had been filled with nightmares. Peter used to wake up sobbing in the middle of the night, terrified that he would lose his aunt as well. It took him a year to stop having nightmares about Uncle Ben, and then another year for the fear of losing Aunt May to fade away. 

Harley, having been there for the first four years of Morgan's life, knows how to cajole her. He convinces her to go spend some time on the swing and the slide. Morgan is hesitant at first but soon quickly falls in with another little girl around her age. The two kids end up taking turns on the slide and bouncing on the see saw while Harley and Peter keep an eye on them from the bench.

"How's university, by the way?" Peter asks, feeling awkward even as he does so "Your family must be missing you if you're over here and they're alone."

Harley takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

"University is fine. It's just challenging enough for me to need to use some of my brain half the time."

Peter's not surprised. If SI's recent developments were the product of Harley's tinkering, then it's in good hands. Harley isn't being cocky, just confident, and he has good reason to be. 

"Family..." Harley sighs again. He focuses on Morgan, rubbing his palms together in a nervous gesture.

"My mom blames me for Abbie," he says.

No. Oh no. Peter's heart starts to beat a rapid staccato. He's gone and opened a can of worms now. Harley rubs at his wrists and continues.

"I usually walked home with her. But that day, that day I got detention. I punched a classmate for calling me names so I had to stay behind. Abbie, she waited for me - " Harley takes a deep breath "We were crossing the street with a bunch of other kids when a truck driver got dusted and well -"

"I'm sorry," Peter blurts out. Harley gives him a small smile.

"I was lucky, I was thrown ten feet onto grass. Broke my ankle and my arm, had a concussion. Abbie wasn't so lucky. She hit the asphalt. She made it to the hospital, through the surgery, but she just wouldn't wake up. Her brain just... stopped." Harley runs his hands through his hair, tousling it until it looks like he just rolled out of bed. "Mom couldn't forgive me. If I hadn't gotten detention, if we left an hour earlier, we would have been home safe by the time the Decimation happened. It was my fault that Abbie was at that intersection that day."

"You couldn't have known," Peter protests weakly. Logically, he knows that Harley knows, but guilt is a powerful thing. Harley shrugs. 

"Mom lost it. She broke completely, out of her mind when the doctor told her. I was still underage, I hadn't hit my birthday yet, everything was in shambles. I had to plan the funeral and commit my mom to an institution but I was legally a minor. So Pepper took over guardianship for me until my birthday. She was the one who helped get the funeral in order and got my mom some help. I was totally useless. The moment I was legal, I sold the house, moved closer to varsity, didn't look back."

"I'm sorry," Peter says again. He can't say anything else.

"It's okay," Harley bumps Peter's shoulder lightly "Mom's doing well in her institution. She sort of remembers me, spends her days painting and mothering some of the younger patients. I've made my peace with it. And I've found a new family," he smiles and waves at Morgan, who has somehow managed to get a muddy hand print on her shirt despite it being a dry and sunny day. The little girl waves back enthusiastically, then grabs her new friend's hand and runs towards the swings. 

"What about you? Where's your family?" Harley asks, plucking a piece of grass to poke Peter with it.

"My parents, gone when I was five in a plane crash. My uncle, he... he um died too. Shot. But that was a long time ago," Peter begins. There's a brief moment of silence where he gathers his thoughts. "I have an aunt, Aunt May. She was so lucky. She was seeing me off on the field trip, when the heel of her shoes broke and she tripped. She sprained her ankle and she couldn't walk, so she called in sick to work and rested at home." He lets his breath out in a whoosh "So many traffic accidents that day, I read on the news. One of the trains couldn't be stopped because there was no conductor. More than 200 people died."

Those people wouldn't be coming back, soul stone or not. But Aunt May escaped that fate with a stroke of sheer unfortunate luck. In fact, she had taken some painkillers, then dozed through the initial Decimation, waking up in the evening only to find that a lot of people had just... disappeared. 

Including her nephew. 

Peter doesn't want to imagine how hard it had to have been for her. 

He doesn't know how she carries on again and again. It's incredible the way she's dealt with so much loss and still loved Peter with all her heart. He makes a mental note to appreciate her even more. 

"The ones left behind hurt the most," Harley whispers. Peter can't help but agree. It hurts to be left behind, when everything around you is a reminder of the ones you loved. 

Loved.

Peter swallows hard. 

He didn't have a lot of time with Tony, but the little seed of admiration had blossomed into something more, more than just respect or hero-worship. 

They sit in silence for a bit, watching Morgan and the dark-skinned little girl sit in the grass, chatting animatedly about something. They seem to have become fast friends in the span of an hour. They get up for one last go on the slide and then come running over to Peter and Harley.

"Pederpederharleyharleypederharleypederharley this is Carter she's five and she stays over by -" "Langley Grove," "-Langley Grove and she likes to dig too can we go dig can she come dig at our house?"

"Wait wait wait wait hold up Morgan!" Harley pats her head with a laugh "You gotta ask her mom and your mom."

"But mommy's not here!" Morgan pouted, crossing her arms. Carter turns around and shouts for her mom.

"Mommy mommy can I go play at Morgan's house? Can I? Can I?" 

Her mother - a very attractive dark-skinned young lady wearing a fitted tracksuit - comes jogging over, a big smile on her face. 

"I see you've made a friend, Carter!" She smiles at Peter and Harley "It's so nice to see young men taking care of their little sisters!" she says, squatting down to give Carter a hug and kiss.

"I'm Morgan," Morgan sticks out her hand - Peter winces when he sees it's all muddy - "Can Carter come to my house and dig? We have expewiments!" 

The young mom surprises Peter by taking Morgans hand without hesitation, shaking it firmly.

"Well, I'm super glad that Carter's making friends here, but we've got to go to Nan's later."

Morgan and Carter look so devastated that Peter's heart aches all over again. 

"BUT," young mom pulls out her phone "What I can do is take down your brothers' numbers and get them, to get your mom, to arrange a playdate with Carter some other time, is that alright?" She looks at Harley and Peter expectantly.

Harley and Peter nod quickly at the same time. The children cheer and whoop in delight.

"Yeah yeah yeah that's a great idea!" Peter blurts out, maybe this will be a good distraction for Morgan. She'll have a new friend and it'll be easier for her to move past losing her father. God knows Peter would be lost without Ned. 

"Yeah, I'm Marilyn. Marilyn Halkner. We live just outside of town -" the young woman is saying to Harley. Harley pulls out his phone, plugging in the number Marilyn gives him. Peter on the other hand, fishes out the twigs from both Morgan and Carter's hair.  How can two little girls get so dirty in so short an amount of time? Some questions have no answers, he thinks. 

"I'm Harley, this is Peter," Harley introduces the both of them to Marilyn. She seems quite pleased with them. 

"You two are so adorable, the way you dote on her," Marilyn says "It would be nice if Carter had such responsible older brothers too!" She laughs and then holds out her hand for Carter to take. "Anyway, we better get going. Her Nan's expecting us and we can't show up with mud all over her face."

Carter hugs Morgan goodbye and follows her mother out of the park. 

It's only when they're bundling Morgan into their car to go home that Peter realizes that he never corrected Marilyn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Morgan crashes early and crashes hard after a long day of play, cartoons, and some math, which she initially is reluctant to do when Harley gives her some worksheets. She pouts and refuses with crocodile tears until Harley says "I can't calculate your amperes forever, Morgie-porgie", which seems to be incentive enough for her to learn multiplication and division.

She falls asleep, pencil clutched in her hand, head pillowed on her arm at the table.

Harley picks her up, carries her to her room and changes her into PJs.

"You're good at this," Peter says. He doesn't know why Harley invited him. Harley is obviously used to taking care of Morgan. 

"Thanks," Harley says simply as he walks past Peter, switching off the lights and closing the door. It's too early to go to bed for Peter. His body seems to be tired, his chest aches faintly, but his mind is alert still. 

"You're overthinking again," Harley says at the top of the stairs. He holds out a hand to Peter.

"The lab?"

Peter bites his lip. He's not... he's not welcome in there. Tony never gave permission for this lab, only the one at the Tower, and even that was with supervision. But Harley's looking at him full of expectations, a half-smile on his face. Peter throws caution to the wind and takes the outstretched hand, letting himself be led down to Tony's lab.

It's as they left it that morning. Or more accurately, as Tony left it two weeks ago. 

The two of them stand around the table that Tony uses - _used_ , both too nervous to touch the interface.

Peter takes the plunge by pressing his palm to the cool glass. It lights up immediately, casting a blue glow across the room. The light flows over the arch of Harley's brow, accenting his nose and cheekbones. Peter stares, then drags his eyes away. There are half finished projects, files, stored within easy reach. Peter opens one, Harley opens another.

"Friday, when is this supposed to be released?" Peter asks, panning through the schematics for a new energy efficient battery. Harley lets out a low whistle as he expands some small gadgetry to display a water purifier. 

"Starkion battery anticipated release, June 2020," Friday replies smoothly. Peter thanks her and then opens up the equations for the chemical formula. It's so close to completion. The new compound should be able to hold twice the amount of electrical charge, and endure more damage than usual. It's also supposed to be released in conjunction with the newest Starkphone. Long lasting, durable phones for everyone. The tagline that Tony had jokingly wrote there was 'survive the invasion', a badass boast of how long it was supposed to last. 

"This isn't going to work," Harley mutters in regards to the water purifier, twisting one of the components around "Pore size is too big, it's not clean enough, even with the carbon layer, needs ceramics and a precipitator," he moves to the side and starts to draw up some new additions.

Peter steals a glance at him. 

Harley is completely and utterly focused on improving the design. His laser focus is admirable. Peter doesn't quite understand why, but working opposite Harley at the same station where  _Tony_ used to work seems to lift his spirits a little. It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would have. Instead, it feels good to know that there's someone else in the same boat. It feels good to know that their creations will improve the world, and leave it intact for when Morgan comes for it.

Peter smiles to himself. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched endgame for maximum pain and I cried again.

Peter carries Morgan at the airport. It's full of people and he doesn't want to lose the only living heir of the Stark Empire. Harley's frowning at his phone, texting Pepper about where they're supposed to wait.

The airport is full of bustle, confused people. It feels like nothing has changed, but at the same time, a lot of things have changed. There's a small monument dedicated to those who perished during the Decimation. Peter watches as a woman comes up to it and places her hand on the giant stone slab. A child comes running up to her and she picks up the little boy, together, they cross out a name with a big black marker, big smiles on their faces.

Peter can't help but smile as well. They've got someone back. It counts for something. What they did counts for something.

"Mommy!" Morgan shouts, spotting Pepper's red hair across the open floors. She tries to wriggle free but Peter just sticks himself to her and she can't go anywhere. Harley gives him a grin that says he's aware of what Peter is doing and that he's 100% on board with the idea. Morgan hasn't caught on yet, wanting to be put down, but Peter sticks to walls and ceilings, a small girl isn't a problem. He waits until Pepper's a reasonable distance from them before he releases the squirmy little girl in his arms. Morgan takes off immediately, running towards her mother. Pepper abandons her suitcase, crouching to sweep her daughter up in one smooth move.

"Sweetie! I missed you so-so-so-so-so-so much!" Each word is punctuated with a kiss. Morgan giggles and laughs and snuggles in close. Peter and Harley walk up to the mother and daughter slowly, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Pepper looks up, sees them and opens her arms with a big smile.

"And there are my boys," she says softly. Harley goes in for a solid hug, holding on tightly and squishing Morgan between them. Morgan protests amidst giggles. Harley lets go after a long moment and turns to Peter as if saying 'now you hug her'.

Peter hesitates but everyone's looking at him expectantly. He can't do anything but acquiesce, moving closer to Pepper. Pepper wraps her free arm around him tightly once he's within range. She smells lovely, no doubt some kind of branded perfume, and she lets out a sigh of relief when Peter _slowly_ , slowly relaxes into her hold.

"Let me look at you two," she says finally, pulling back. She brushes Peter's hair out of his face, then straightens Harley's collar. 

"Mommy mommy I was so worried you weren't coming back," Morgan says. 

Pepper is quick to reassure her daughter with hugs and cuddles and lots of kisses. 

"As if I could leave you alone, you're never getting rid of me," Pepper teases. Morgan giggles, content now that her mother is back. "One day you're going to be fifty and I'll still be here, giving you kisses and cuddles and hugs and-"

Morgan squeals with laughter, enjoying all the attention. 

Harley brings the car around while Peter makes sure none of Pepper's luggage gets left behind. They pile into the car unceremoniously, Pepper letting down her updo as she does so. 

"How was she?" Pepper asks, indicating Morgan, who is steadily falling asleep in her mother's lap.

"It was touch and go for a bit. The lab was a bit too much for her," Harley says. Peter winces. The lab holds too much of Tony for Morgan to bear. It's understandable. "She likes Peter though, loved him immediately. "

"Good, good, that's good." Pepper heaves a sigh of relief, petting Morgan's hair.

She looks over at Peter.

"We'll be in New York on Wednesday. Nelson and Murdock are the ones executing the will. Normally we don't need everyone together at the same time, but Tony left some really specific instructions. Do you two boys want me to help with transport or accommodation?" 

The law firm is in Hell's Kitchen, Peter can take the bus there after school.

Harley makes a considering sound.

"I'll book an airbnb or hotel-"

"You can stay at my place," Peter blurts out, "I still have  bunk bed because Ned sleeps over sometimes but he's working on presentations this week and next so he won't be there so you won't have to spend the money. Plus, we can take the bus together!" He bites down on his lip to choke off the word vomit. Great going Peter, suggest a sleepover like a child! He berates himself.

Harley frowns.

"Your aunt won't mind?" 

"No, no she loves meeting my friends," Peter assures him quickly. Of all the people, Harley's the only one who knows exactly what Peter's feeling. Losing a mentor - a father figure - hurts in a way that losing a friend does not. It's not that one of them is worse, it's just that they're different. The Avengers lost a friend. Rhodey and Happy lost a - dare he say it? - brother. Pepper lost her husband. Harley... Harley just like Peter, lost a mentor. What Tony gave each and everyone of them was different and it was those little differences that separated one kind of grief from another. 

"I'll text her and tell her about it now," Peter says, pulling out his phone. 

It only takes a moment for Aunt May to reply with an ' _of course :) :) :) :) :) larb you_ ', which earns Peter a fist bump from Harley.

Pepper leans back against the soft leather seats, closing her eyes.

"At least with you two settled I can get started on arrangements for the rest of the people involved," she says. It has to be a mess. Knowing Tony, he probably had included all the Avengers and a ton of random people in his will. To get all of them in one spot would be a challenge. 

"If you need any sort of help, Mrs P-"

"Pepper, please Peter. After everything, at least call me Pepper,"

"Mrs Po - Mrs Pepper," Peter stumbles and it startles a laugh out of the redhead. Harley chuckles as Peter goes redder and redder.

"Yes, if I need help, I'll contact you." Pepper smiles, reaching to the front seat to give Peter a consoling pat on the shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

 

Aunt May greets him with open arms when Peter walks through the door to the small apartment. She's been cleaning all weekend it seems. There's new furniture, new cushions, new sheets, new clothes for Peter, and a sickeningly gorgeous new pair of sneakers that have spiderweb motifs all over them. 

Peter relaxes into his Aunt's hold, feeling a swell of emotion that he doesn't know how to name. 

"I love you Aunt May. I love you, I love you," he repeats it over and over and over again to his aunt, trying to burn each detail about her into the deepest part of his mind. He takes a deep breath of her vanilla scented shampoo, and memorizes the way she feels in his arms.

"What's the matter, Peter?" Aunt May pulls away, looking worried.

"I just, I just really missed you and I'm sorry I make you worry all the time and I'm so grateful for everything even if I never say it," the words spill out before he can stop himself. 

"Oh honey, shh shh, it's okay, I know, I know" Aunt May whispers back. 

Peter cries with relief. They're not even related by blood, but Aunt May loves him all the same. She kept his suits, his Legos, his posters for  _5 years_. She buried her family, her husband, but she didn't bury her nephew. 

"Thanks, mom," he whispers. 

She breathes in sharply.

"Oh sweetie, you don't have to," she says, eyes brimming with tears as well.

"You've always been my mom and I've been too stupid to see it and I just, I love you mom," Peter says. It changes everything and nothing at the same time. The way he said ' _Aunt May'_   ever since Uncle Ben's death, he had never realized, but it was just another form of mom. She might not have changed his diapers or watched him walk, but Aunt May has been there for him through middle school, through losing Ben, through  _Spiderman_. She knows his first kiss, his first crush, his likes, dislikes. She's been a guiding force in his life, a rock in the middle of the crashing waves. She had always been his mother. Calling her  _mom_ was just making it super,  _super_ , official. 

They spend some time just standing there, holding each other tight.

"Now, you need a suit for when the will is being read," Aunt May pulls back, wiping away her tears, she's smiling even though she's crying. Peter thinks his expression must be the same.

"I threw out your old one so we're gonna have to go suit-shopping today,"

"It's okay if we can't afford it, mom." Peter protests weakly. 

Aunt May laughs. She gives him another hug.

"Half the nurses got dusted and I was the one with the most experience so I've been head of the department for some time, Peter. We can most definitely afford it," she reminds him. 

He forgets sometimes that the world moved on. People filled ranks that were suddenly empty. There was a sudden need for more workers of every sort. Aunt May just so happened to benefit.

"She's not happy that I've got her job now, but they can't take back my promotion without good reason so -" Aunt May smiles at him. She grabs her purse.

"Let's go Peter. I want you looking respectable for Wednesday."

 

* * *

 

Harley arrives on Tuesday night, just in time to quiz Peter on his History test. Aunt May loves him immediately because he shows up with a massive bouquet of flowers, expensive wine, a huge box of chocolates, and a bag of snacks. Harley grins and pulls Peter into a hug before he can protest, watching Aunt May squee as she pulls out her favourite chips and cookies.

"You shouldn't have, Harley!" she says repeatedly as she puts things away into the cupboards. Peter can tell she's really, really pleased and impressed. Harley throws Peter a wink, which makes Peter's stomach do a funny thing. 

"Thanks for letting me stay over," he says, turning up the charm.

Aunt May puts her hands on her hips.

"You don't need to charm me, Harley Keener. Any friend of Peter is welcome in this house. I'm just thankful he has someone else to talk to throughout all this." She gives him a one-armed hug as she goes to put the flowers in the vase.

"I'll show you where you can sleep," Peter says, shaking out his hands to get rid of his nerves. Harley grabs his hand and looks at him expectantly.

Peter realizes belatedly that his movement might have been misconstrued as him holding out a hand for Harley to take. Not that it's unpleasant! In fact, Harley's hand is warm, calloused, slightly larger than Peter's and it's very nice to just hold on and drag the older male into Peter's bedroom. 

"I'll usually sleep on the top bunk when people sleep over cause you know," Peter mimes his web-shooting ability. Harley laughs. Yeah, Peter doesn't need a ladder to climb onto the top bunk, which makes things super super easy. Harley drops his duffel onto the floor unceremoniously, and flops onto the mattress. He stretches out and his shirt rides up just a little, exposing a tiny strip of bare skin. Peter swallows and looks away.

"Your aunt is super pretty," Harley says. Peter parks his butt in the chair and they just hang out in companionable silence for a bit. 

"So, where does the spidering happen?" Harley asks, sitting up. 

Peter grins, opening his closet. Aside from video clips, Harley has never seen the suit in person. Peter selects one of the older suits and pulls it out, showing it off with a flourish. Harley lets out a soft 'wow', reaching out to take it from Peter's hands.

His hands glide over the fabric, admiring the weave and the elasticity.

Harley brings it up to his face, scrutinizing the fabric and giving it a little sniff. Peter's stomach flips.

"Sweat wicking? Let me guess, spandex, mylar, with cotton and - " 

Peter swallows. How the heck did Harley manage to guess within seconds? It wasn't hard to see why Tony liked him in the first place. Harley's incredibly smart, perhaps on the same level as Tony. Peter leans more towards chemistry and biology. 

"There's something else," Harley muses, pulling on the suit. 

"Spider silk," Peter blurts out before he can stop himself. Aside from Tony and Peter, no one else knows this little detail. "Spider silk from  _Caerostris darwini,_ bred in the labs, gives it tensile strength, it's more friction proof, less elasticity because it reacts with the mylar but it's a trade off that we were willing to make for the added stab-proofness of it-"

Harley lets out a surprised snort of laughter.

"Stab-proof? Concern intensifies."

Peter can't help but laugh too.

"Yeah, sometimes criminals try to stab me so they can get away. I got stabbed before-"

"Where?" Harley asks, looking too interested for his own good.

Peter hesitates, he points at his side slowly.

Harley's springs up and pounces, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Peter starts to protest but then there are warm fingers on his skin, touching him, tracing over the soft flesh of his side, and Peter could totally push Harley away but he doesn't want to accidentally hurt the young man and it's kind of ... nice?

"There's a scar," Harley says. Peter hasn't ever thought about the scars. Not really. He doesn't spend too much time staring at himself in the mirror or examining the hurts he got from patrol. But now that Harley mentions it, he does look down. Harley's face is so close to his hip and Peter can feel his breath, hot puffs that make Peter's belly do the  _thing_ again but he's right and there  _is_ a faint line where Peter remembers the knife sliding into his body. 

"Chicks dig scars," Harley continues, the side of his mouth is quirked upwards.

"Do you?" Peter says before he can stop himself. Blood rushes to his face as he realizes what he said. 

Harley blinks several times, then he studies Peter's scar with an intensity Peter comes to associate with his 'fixing things' mode, and nods.

"Yeah, come to think of it, I do too." Harley smiles up Peter, straightening and patting Peter's shirt back into it's usual place. "I'm glad you're okay though, but try not to get stabbed again please, Peter? For me and Morgan."

"Oh... okay," Peter can't do anything but agree. He doesn't  _want_ to get stabbed, but it happened, but that's okay, he'll definitely avoid knives from now on. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Peter wishes that the suit was actually itchy, so that he could have an excuse to fidget. Instead, it's perfectly fine and he has no reason to bounce his leg or shift continuously. 

Everyone is here. And by that, he means everyone. Seeing them in the heat of battle is vastly different than seeing them in real life. Harley doesn't seem bothered at all. He just smiles and shakes hands with everyone. To be honest, Peter thinks it's a miracle that everyone can fit in the tiny little waiting area of Nelson and Murdock. Aunt May had work and couldn't come and Peter wishes she was there just so he would have a hand to hold. 

Harley seems to pick up on his anxiety, but he says nothing, only putting a hand on Peter's back, right between the shoulder blades. It feels nice and solid and reminds Peter not to hyperventilate. 

Wanda is sitting in the corner, head bent towards Clint who's whispering softly. She signs back from time to time. Dr Banner looks much better than the last time, his arm is still a patchwork of green and white but he seems to have regained full mobility. He's using one hand to hold the crossword up and peers down at it to fill out the tiny squares with his tiny pencil, quietly arguing with Rogers about what four across should be. Thor's back, looking to be in much better health as well. At the very least, he doesn't smell of beer and whiskey. Nebula seems to be having a little chat with James Rhode in the corner while Rocket's trying to tease the Winter Soldier into giving up his arm. Quill and the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy weren't invited. Sam Wilson and Carol Danvers are chatting quietly, stealing looks at Nick Fury from time to time. Hope keeps shaking her head to what Scott is telling her, most probably trying to dissuade him from something stupid. There are other people that Peter doesn't know by name, a two men and three women who Peter's pretty sure work with SI, and a tall amazonian woman who Peter has never ever seen in his entire life. 

Peter is starting to feel a little claustrophobic when Pepper strides out of Foggy Nelson's office with Happy, and Morgan.

"Thank you all for coming," Pepper says. She smiles at everyone. Morgan whines a little and Peter automatically goes over. 

The little girl is enthused to see her 'Pederpeder' and 'Harleyharley' so she willingly goes to Peter's arms, bouncing as he holds her. 

"I know it's unusual to have a will reading like this," Pepper begins, "But let's face it, Tony Stark wasn't exactly the most usual person."

There's a smattering of laughter at this. Peter can feel his lips quirk up as well. That was putting it lightly. 

Pepper steps aside as Foggy Nelson emerges from his office carrying a suitcase. Murdock taps his way out with his cane, then takes a seat.

"Ahem," Foggy clears his throat. He opens the suitcase with a click-click swish, revealing a series of tiny silver spheres and two larger, golden ones.

"Mr Stark left behind some very detailed instructions on what to do in the case of his demise. While a portion of his will was in writing, he did make it clear that these were to be delivered onto his beneficiaries all at the same time, which is why we're here. They're all supposed to be recordings he made before his death, and can only be accessed via fingerprint. The contents of these recordings are not yet known. They're thought to be his last personal statement to the beneficiaries. However, for the purpose of clarity and transparency, we would like everyone to open it in front of either Murdock or me, or the both of us, in case Mr Stark added anything else in his personal statements that he left out in his main will."

There's a murmur. No one contests this declaration, nodding solemnly. 

The spheres are handed out one by one, Morgan gets a golden sphere, so does Pepper. Peter, having his hands full with a little girl, has to get Harley to hold on to his. Clint looks solemn as he accepts the one meant for Natasha. Tony recorded these before the final battle and there wasn't any time to change anything, but that will come later.

"In the meantime," Murdock says, pulling out a sheaf of papers, "We've done a thorough accounting of all his Estates. The bulk of his Estates have been deeded to Mrs Potts. This includes five residences, fifteen pieces of land, one private jet, one helicopter, two cars -"

Harley seems to be concentrating very hard. Peter has no idea what's really going on because he's never been at a will reading. No one close to him has had enough wealth that they could divide. 

"Two cars only?" Harley says with a frown, more a question to himself than to anyone else. "Pepper deserves all the cars," Harley murmurs to Peter. Peter can't help but agree. Somehow, Nelson can make the recitation of the entire list of Assets less boring than it should have been. The reading is not meant to be exhaustive, only a mere outline of what Tony left behind. It's entirely surreal, because Tony had so much _stuff_ that Peter never even knew about. Peter's mind drifts a little and he watches Rogers start to nod off. Nelson finishes off the recap and hands Pepper the sheaf of papers. It's thick, like thesis, hardcover trilogy thick. Peter feels bad that Pepper has to go through so much paperwork.

"To Miss Morgan H Stark, Mr Stark left all of his shares in Stark Industries and all its subsidaries, to be managed by Mrs Potts or people of her choosing until Miss Morgan H Stark reaches her majority. There is also a trust fund, two investment funds, and six different insurance policies that will be under Mrs Potts' care until Miss Stark reaches her majority. Wherein she'll be entitled to claim the New York penthouse, and his favourite Aston Martin, which we will require clarification on because Mr Stark did not specify which Aston Martin was his favourite and he has three."

There's a smattering of laughter again and James Rhodes raises his hand with a wry grin.

"It's the black one with the single silver racing stripe down the sides," he says "Tony spent a lot of time on it, upgrading its engine." 

"Noted," Nelson says, looking faintly amused. He adds on a few more items, generalizing and summing up everything, then hands the stack of papers to Pepper, who stows it away as well. 

"To Harley Keener, a residence in Oklahoma, an investment fund, Engineering labs Sigma, Beta, and Kappa, the Bugatti, a chief research & development position in SI if he so wants it, two start-ups, and one company" here Foggy pauses to eye Harley, who has gone quite pale, "Do you need a moment, Mr Keener?" 

Harley looks like he's just seen a ghost but he takes a deep breath, accepts the papers, then motions for Nelson to move on.

"To Peter Parker, a university fund, an investment fund," Peter nods, Pepper had mentioned these, but then Nelson continues with "-all patents and technology related to Spiderman and KAREN, KAREN herself, the red and blue Lambo, driving lessons, a Chief R&D position in SI if he so wants it, Biochemistry Lab Delta, an apartment in Queens, and letters of recommendation to all ivy league universities."

Peter's speechless. His mouth is open in shock and surprise because he expected the university fund and maybe a lab, but this is too much. And Nelson's still not done. He sets down the list and then pulls out another stack.

"Morgan Stark, Harley Keener, and Peter Parker are to share inheritance of all FRIDAY systems, all JOCASTA systems, all JARVIS systems, all the bots, all the Ironman suits, should there be any left, the compound, and the rest of the private labs."

This is way, _way,_ too much. It's hard to breathe, Peter thinks, it's too hard to breathe. His vision is tunneling down into dark spots and he quickly grabs the nearest person, sliding Morgan into their arms as his legs give out.

"Peter, Peter are you okay?" Pepper's bent over him, fanning him with paper. Someone passes over a bottle of water and Peter grabs it gratefully, chugging down the whole thing because his throat is so, so, so, so dry. 

He doesn't understand, why did, why does, why did Tony give him  _so many things?_ Peter doesn't  _deserve_ any of them. He's just an intern. Just a stupid young boy who has a serious case of hero worship that was kind of useful sometimes and he's not worth a  _car_  and the  _apartment_ , let alone the joint inheritance of _all the bots and the AIs that Tony created_. 

" _Peter, stay with me!"_

The voice filters through the rushing thoughts and Harley's face pops up in his field of vision. The other male looks incredibly pale as well. Peter clutches onto his shoulders like a lifeline, unable to understand what was happening. This was unreal. He'd wake up sooner or later, sitting in his bunk bed, alone, no Harley, just the suits in the tiny apartment with his Aunt May. That was all. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. He didn't  _want_ it to be real. He wanted Tony, he wanted to be teased, called Underoos, even seeing Tony's disappointed face would be good, he wanted the man in the suit back, not all of  _this_ whatever  _this_ was!

"Breathe with me in-two-three-four-five, out-two-three-four-five-six-seven, in-two-three-four-five, out-two-three-four-five-six-seven, there you go, it's okay, in-two-three-four-five-"

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and syncs his breathing with how Harley's shoulders are moving up and down. All those things should belong to Morgan, and only Morgan. Peter shouldn't have a part in it. He's not a part of that family. _He's not_ -

"Peter, Petey, please talk to me," Pepper's fingers are smoothing down his hair, feeling his forehead.

"I can't, I don't deserve all, I can't take any of it," Peter croaks out, his voice hoarse. 

Someone rubs Peter's hands, the sensation gives him something to focus on other than his thundering heart.

Then it's Murdock's voice "Mr Parker, whether you want them or not, the paperwork for the transfer of names has already been prepared. Should you refuse them, Mr Stark left instructions for them to be destroyed. If that is what you wa-"

No.  _No_. Peter cannot destroy what remains of his mentor. He cannot. He _will not_.

"No, no no don't destroy them, please, you can't, they belong to Tony," Peter begs. 

"They belong to you now," Murdock is saying, squeezing Peter's hands lightly "If you don't want them destroyed, all you have to do is accept them. What you choose to do with them afterwards is your choice."

"Is there a quiet dark place," Harley says and then his arms are on Peter's hips, moving him, urging him to stand up. Peter obeys, holding on as he's led to Murdock's office. Harley guides him to the chair and lets him slump down in it. Peter's boneless in the chair, unable to even begin to process what was going on. Harley moves around the room, shutting the door, closing the blinds, turning up the AC full blast, then coming to crouch beside Peter.

The thin door doesn't really block out all the sound. Peter can hear Foggy pressing on with what Tony decided to give to Happy and Rhodes. But the darkness helps, and the cold air feels refreshing. The physical barrier seems to help him separate his thoughts from his emotions. 

"Crazy, huh?" Harley asks. 

Peter nods slowly, not trusting himself to speak.

"I mean, he always talked about giving me a lab, and I figured that he'd give me like  _one_ car. But I didn't expect the real-estate, or the labs, or the company or anything else, really." Harley laughs. It's thin and thready, much like how Peter feels. The other male is feeling wrong footed as well. Neither of them expected that Tony would just up and  _give_ them all these. And they most certainly didn't think that they'd be in charge of the bots and the AIs. 

"I can't believe it," Peter whispers. He feels like he's been run through a blender. His chest hurts and his eyes sting. What will he even  _do_ with those things? He has no clue what to do with an  _investment fund_ well Peter can think of one million things to do in the  _labs_ but he doesn't even understand the  _patents_ and then  _KAREN -._

Peter shoves the thoughts away. 

"Who's got Morgan?" Peter says at last.

"Last I saw, Clint took her. He's good with kids, she'll be fine." 

Harley moves to sit on Murdock's desk. 

"I can't accept all those," Peter says, pressing his hands to his face.

"I don't think you have a choice," Harley points out "You know how Tony is. He probably programmed a self-destruct button somewhere or something."

"It should be hers, you know?" Peter protests weakly.

"You can give it to her, when she comes of age," Harley reminds him. "She can't do anything with them now and let's face it, I don't think Tony trusts any of the others with maintaining his beloved AIs or bots."

That's true. Aside from Peter, aside from Harley, who else would take care of Friday or Jocasta or Karen? Sure they could play with the bots, but they wouldn't count on Bruce to fix a strut or to debug the code. They couldn't count on Thor to perform systems check, or provide new patches. Tony has scientists but they don't know Karen the way Peter does, they don't understand Friday the way Harley does. One day, it'll be up to them to teach Morgan as well. 

"I'd rather have him back," Peter mutters.

"Yeah, me too." Harley kicks at Peter's shin lightly "But it's time for him to rest." 

That too, is true. Tony deserves his rest. Peter hopes that wherever his mentor's soul is, it's peaceful, it's full of the things he likes, and it's free of worry. 

"Do you want to go back out?" Harley asks. Peter shakes his head. He doesn't want to face anyone. He closes his eyes and listens to Harley join the rest in the main waiting area.

* * *

Peter sits in the darkened room for an hour before rejoining the rest of them. Everyone is holding papers of some sort and most of them look like they've been crying at one point or another. Clint in particular, has a very red nose and tear tracks. Peter spots Natasha's name on one of the papers. Tony left her something, but she's not here, so it falls to her best friend to handle things. Nelson is off with Sam Wilson, listening to whatever personal statement that Tony has made. Murdock makes use of his newly vacated office and brings Harley in with him. 

Peter can't do anything but wait. He wants to tell someone, but everyone is here. He wants to tell Ned but Ned's having exams and MJ, MJ has a demonstration thing tomorrow and he shouldn't ruin her mood. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about how everyone saw him nearly pass out. Pepper comes over and draws him into a hug. 

She doesn't say a thing, just holds him until Harley comes out, eyes red and desperately scrubbing at his face. He comes over and Pepper pulls him into a hug as well.

"Why don't you go first, Peter? Then you can go home and rest. I'll take care of everything else here," Pepper gives him a little push. Peter obeys, letting Harley take comfort from Pepper.

Miss Page is standing alongside Murdock in the room, both waiting expectantly for him to open his sphere. He both dreads and anticipates it. What did Tony want to say to him even? What else could he give Peter? It takes a moment for Peter to figure out the mechanism but he manages to open the latch and press his thumb onto it. 

The sphere whirs to life and spits out an image of Tony. The mini-Tony projection peers around over his signature shades and then smiles at Peter.

"Done panicking, Underoos?"

How did he know? Peter laughs. 

"I know everything, kiddo."

The tears well up in his eyes again.

"I can't wait for the tears to stop, so I'm just going to say it,"

Tony smiles, pulling off his shades.

"I know I say you're an intern, that you should sit down and do what you know. But the truth is, Stark men have never gotten anywhere by playing it safe. When I lost you, I lost a part of myself. It hurt too much to bear. It was why I couldn't really ever rest. Your death wasn't just on me because you were my intern. Your death was on me because you're... you're special to me. That's not something I admit to just anyone. Look how long it took me to snag Pepper. What I'm trying to say is, you deserve the world. You can change it for the better. I'm leaving it in your hands. You, Harley, and my baby girl Morgan. I believe in you, Spiderman. I trust you."

Mini-Tony gives Peter a tired smile.

"Take care of your little sister, Peter. I'm counting on you."

He waves, a cocky little salute, and disappears. 

_Take care of your little sister._

**Little sister.**

Peter feels weak all over again.  _Little sister._

"Mr Parker," Murdock is holding his arm gently "Mr Parker let me call you and Mr Keener a cab."

Peter waves him off, ttying to process. He wasn't just an intern. Tony thought more of him than that. Tony trusted him enough to say ' _Take care of your little sister_ '.

Peter takes a deep breath. He can't do what Tony asked if he's sitting on the floor like an idiot. Peter breathes in and out deeply several more times then gathers his wits about him. 

He pulls himself up with the aid of Ms Page and Murdock. Ms Page is looking a little misty-eyed as well. Peter accepts a hug from her and smiles even as the tears seep into his mouth. 

He has got this. He's Spiderman. Tony's counting on him. 

_I'll make you proud, Tony._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super thankful to all you for commenting, but I'm a dumb dweeb who's awkward so um, I don't know how to reply ; - ;

"You sure you two don't need a ride?" Happy asks for what feels like the hundredth time. Peter leans against Harley, too tired to protest anymore. Pepper's murmuring to James Rhodes in low tones, doing the up-down-side-to-side jig that parents do when they don't want the sleeping child in their arms to wake. 

"Thanks Happy, but I think it's important you get our step-mom back to whatever hotel she's in as soon as possible," Harley says. 

There are no bags under Pepper's eyes because she's too good at makeup to let that happen, but the people who know her know that faster than usual blink-blink, blink-blink, means that she's really tired. Peter doesn't blame her. Anyone would be tired after the emotional hell they're going through. 

Happy doesn't look too happy about having to let the other two heirs of the Stark Empire walk home alone, but he acquieses, going to take Morgan from Pepper's arms.

"Let's go, Mrs Potts," he urges her quietly. Pepper nods, waving goodbye to some of the other people and clasping hands with Clint. Peter catches fragments of a sentence, _'we'll be in touch Clint, you're not alone',_ then Pepper's coming over for one last hug. She kisses them both on the forehead, then slides into the car gracefully. Happy shuts the door and waves to the two boys and then takes the driver's seat. 

Peter watches the car pull away from the front of the office, feeling strangely floaty. Harley nudges him and they start walking down the street, towards the subway.

Everyone who left that room left it emotionally wrung out. Even Carol, who looks put together most of the time, was teary when she left. 

Some of what Tony wanted to give away is moot now. Like the Compound. He had originally planned for the Avengers to live there together, but Thanos had effectively tanked that plan. Pepper originally wanted to rebuild the place, rehabilitate the forest surrounding it and recreate the Compound, but without Tony's genius mind to build in the defenses, it wouldn't be secure. The idea had been tabled for the time being. There are so many things to do. But that's what happens when a billionaire with a penchant for giving gifts passes away. 

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" Peter asks, kicking at a leaf. 

"8 am, probably." Harley stops short, a funny look on his face.

"What?"

"I just realized that I now have two cars..." Harley says, scrunching up his eyes in a confused manner.

"Get this, one's a 1997 Toyota that's only running because I am a poor mechanic, and the other is a Buggati because my faux-dad is a rich mechanic."

Peter contemplates his friend for a moment.

"So which one are you going to drive?"

"Pete, I didn't ever think I was going to have this problem," Harley looks conflicted "I can't stand the thought of just leaving that sleek beauty alone, but at the same time Didi deserves my love for her faithfulness. Is this what rich people feel like all the time? Is this what they call rich people problems? It feels weird Pete, make it stop!" Harley clutches at Peter's shoulders in mock horror. 

Peter laughs. Harley's levity makes everything seem better, solvable, surmountable. 

"What did Tony say to you?" Peter asks. 

Harley smiles down at his shiny dress shoes and starts walking again.

"He said not to forget our connection, then to take care of you and the little porg," Harley teases, slinging his arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter yelps when Harley ruffles his hair. His stomach falls in a swoop. Harley's at least a head taller than Peter, having finished puberty already. Peter's only halfway there despite being a year younger. Or is it six years younger now? Peter doesn't quite understand how it works. He only knows that despite being physically 15 he's legally 20 and that lets him sign papers to access his trust fund, or own the apartment Tony gave him. 

He also knows that it feels nice to have Harley's arm around his shoulders, close enough to smell the older male's cologne, and soak up the warmth in the cooling weather. Peter drifts closer, wrapping his arm around Harley's waist. They're brothers now, sort of. Brothers from another father who lost the same mentor, love the same step-mom, and adore the same little sister. 

"Are you going thwipping later?" Harley asks. 

Peter makes a face.

"Thwipping?"

"Yeah like tripping but with thwipping, cause you're Spide-" 

Peter lunges and clamps his hand over Harley's mouth.

"I'm not really ready for the world to know that bit yet," he says softly. 

Harley waggles his eyebrows, grabs Peter's hand and  _licks it_.

"Eeeewwww! Aren't you supposed to be the adultier one?!" Peter yelps, jerking his hand away. Harley laughs at him, dancing out of the way when Peter tries to wipe his hand on Harley's suit.

"Ain't no such thing," Harley sing-songs. 

Peter just stares.

"Not that I'm judging but how the heck are you still so cheerful?" 

Harley laughs again.

"Pete, I'm a hot mess inside but I know if I start crying again, I won't be able to stop. So I'd rather not start."

Peter grabs his arm.

"Harley," Peter fumbles. He has nothing to say. There's nothing he can say to take away the hurt. Not yet, because it's too soon. Instead, Peter pulls Harley into a hug. 

Harley's arms come up slowly, one settling around Peter's shoulder, the other around his slim waist. He feels Harley breathe out slowly, some of the tension leeching away.

"I'm here. If you need me, I'm here," Peter promises. He feels Harley shudder, then straighten. He pulls away slowly, wiping at face furiously.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the adultier one," Harley protests weakly. Peter just bumps his shoulder and grabs his arm again.

"Come on, I want a sandwich before we get home."

* * *

 

"We have an apartment?" Aunt May asks again.

"Mom, we have a new apartment," Peter says for the third time. Aunt May is staring at the list. Peter's physically 15, but legally, on paper, he's 20. Which means his signature on the transfer papers saying that he's agreeing to whatever the hell Tony's giving him is valid. 

"What?" Aunt May says again, disbelieving.

"Tony gave me an apartment. Gave  _us_ an apartment," Peter explains again "And a car. I was thinking you could drive the car to work instead cause I haven't got my license. It would take like 40 minutes off your commute cause you don't have to change trains or wait for the bus so now you get an extra 80 minutes a day which you can use to relax and not worry about pickpockets on the subway. And I mean, if we moved to the other apartment, we wouldn't need to pay rent anymore so you could use the money we're paying on rent for gas money, or for other things like getting a spa day cause you totally deserve a spa day," Peter rambles on, topping up Aunt May's tea as she reads.

Aunt May looks up, still befuddled and taken aback at the extent of Tony's generosity.

"I'm still in shock," Peter admits, taking her hand in his and patting it "But I literally can't give it back cause he was very specific and he specifically said I had to take the things else he would quote-unquote have them destroyed. In any case, I've signed the paper that says I understood everything and would follow through with the instructions."

"Oh, Peter," Aunt May flings her arms around Peter, rocking him back and forth "There's a college fund here, you can go to any university you want!" she weeps into his shoulder. 

Tears of relief, Peter thinks, hugging her back fiercely. They weren't  _poor-_ poor, but they definitely skirted the line a little after Ben died. Peter always had just enough and he never really wanted more. Get a loan, get the degree, pay back the loan, he used to assume this was how it was going to be. Not anymore. 

Tony is making it possible for Peter to take care of the ones he loves. Aunt May can relax, can take time off, she doesn't need to worry. Peter can give her the things she likes. Even from beyond the grave, Tony touches lives. 

"We can go on vacation to Europe," Peter says "Or maybe Asia. I know you always said you wanted to visit Japan, maybe Southeast Asia, we can go snorkeling, and maybe climb the mountains there. We can do a gourmet trip and eat all the food!"

"Not the point but okay," Aunt May says, wiping away her tears. Peter knows she's been worrying about how he is going to afford university, but now that worry is gone, it's like ten years fell away from her face. The burden of providing for Peter has lifted, not completely, but most of the way.

Aunt May squeezes Peter's hands again, relief and worry warring on her face.

"How do you feel?"

"Weird," Peter confesses "Still... feels weird. Like he's not really gone."

"Peter," Aunt May gives him a long look "Does your Uncle Ben really feel gone to you?"

Peter hesitates. He takes a look around the room, the apartment they've been staying in for so long. The notches on the doorframe, the godawful section of wallpaper he allowed Peter to pick when he was a child, the weird coin bank on the shelves, the books, even the smell of laundry detergent, they're all small things that remind Peter of Uncle Ben. He can still recall how Uncle Ben's hand felt, squeezing Peter's tiny one before crossing the road, he does it to Ned and MJ sometimes. Peter remembers Uncle Ben's laugh when he sees Corgi butts and cat tongues sticking out. He remembers exactly how many pickles Uncle Ben likes on his sandwiches and how much ketchup he wants. He can recall the cadence of his voice saying ' _Peter, want to go to the park?_ '.

"I see him a lot, you know," Aunt May continues, brushing Peter's hair out of his face "The way you walk, the way you talk, I don't know what Richard was like, but I see Ben in you every  _single_ day."

They're not really gone, not ever. They exist in the smallest things, in the faintest memories, as fragments of his personality. Peter can do this. He's done it before. He can be strong and carry on. Even if it still hurts when he misses Uncle Ben, he can smile and laugh about the stupid things they did together. He can think about Ben without crying or hurting too much. Eventually, Peter knows, he can also look at the imprints of Tony in his life and  _not_ hurt.

He smiles. 

" _With great power comes great responsibility"_

" _I'm counting on you"_

Peter holds those two phrases closer to his heart. The people he loves are not coming back. But if he can't get what he wants back, at least, he's got what he needs. He can make a difference with what he has. People are counting on him. He has the power, therefore the responsibility. 

"I'll call you in sick to school tomorrow, if you want," Aunt May offers.

"It's okay, mom. I"ll be fine," Peter assures her. He gives her one last tight hug before pulling away. 

By the time he's washed, and changed for bed, Harley is already in the bottom bunk, tapping away at the tablet. It seems to be emails and financial reports about the merger. 

"Still working?" Peter asks. He doesn't think twice about moseying in beside Harley. Harley scoots over before Peter even needs to ask, making space for Peter on the bed. In a second, they're pressed, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, Peter's nose filled with the citrus conditioner Aunt May put in his bathroom. Harley looks up briefly and smiles at Peter.

"If I send this now maybe he'll get to it tomorrow," Harley says. He presses the wrong button and swears loudly when the email disappears with a 'SENT' notification.

Peter can't help giggling because the email only says " _Dear John, I will not."_  

Harley scrambles to undo the send and manages to hit the unsend button before 10 seconds has passed. The email pops up as a draft on his screen again and Harley heaves a sigh of relief. 

"What's this about?"

"Hammertech went down when Justin Hammer got dusted five years ago. One of the companies decided to sell out to us just before the un-vanishing. We were in the middle of negotiating terms when Hammer reappeared and now the company is in an uproar. They're pushing for six months but I refuse to compromise, either they sign now for this price, or not at all." Harley types out the rest of the email and then hits send again.

"Not to mention I overheard Clint saying something about starting a foundation and charity in memory of Natasha, but I discovered that there's a group that has been calling themselves the Black Widows after the press release." 

Harley shows Peter the news articles. 

There is a bunch of smiling young women, dressed in all black with a red spider on their shirts, each sporting dyed red hair or red wigs. Peter skims the articles, eyebrows climbing higher and higher.

"Operating on donations, dedicated to empowering women. They've got halfway houses and soup kitchens set up but they're going to need offices and better financial planners," Harley says "They don't have a main base, or a main leader. Everything is voluntary basis only, which makes it difficult to pin people down for a proper negotiation of terms."

"Does Mr Barton know about this?" Peter asks. 

Harley shrugs, he leans over Peter to grab his phone, not bothering to sit up straight after he's sprawled across Peter's lap comfortably. 

"I emailed him the outline and I asked him if he wants to bankroll them instead, combine efforts and maybe set up a proper office for them. As long as he can pay off the offices and rental, they can handle the rest."

Harley's weight on Peter's legs feels nice. He reaches out without thinking and runs his fingers through the older male's hair, still fluffy from the shower.

Harley shivers and starts to relax. 

"This feels nice," Harley says, his voice dreamy as Peter continues to stroke. The gradual slide into relaxation only serves to highlight how much tension Harley was holding in previously. 

"Everything is happening so fast," Peter says. Harley nods against his leg, breath hot against the inside of Peter's calves. 

"I'm kinda sleepy, Pete," Harley mumbles "It's been a looo-" he yawns, and then, a soft snore.

Peter grins to himself. He pets Harley's hair for a little longer and gently lifts the older male.

 _Thank you spider strength_ , Peter thinks, carefully laying Harley out on his back and pulling the blankets up. He takes the tablet, switches it off, and sets it aside. Peter climbs up onto the top bunk and lies down as well. The moment his head hits the pillow, the emotional and mental exhaustion of the day comes crashing down on him all at once and he's asleep before he even has a chance to think about it.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Harley leaves in the morning, but not before dropping Peter off at school. The beat-up Toyota doesn't draw attention, but Harley's handsome face and bright declaration of ' _Bye Petey, luv ya'_ , draws a multitude of stares. Peter's stomach does a flip flop and his face feels hot when he waves back.

"Bye Harley, larb ya too!" he says brightly before he can stop himself.

It's fine, right? They're brothers now, not by blood but by shared grief. They babysat Morgan together, they inherited a huge part of the Stark Empire together. Harley says 'lov ya' to Morgan a lot. Peter says it to her too. It's sibling love. It's not weird to say it to each other, right?

Peter's never been shy about expressing his love and affection for his loved ones but somehow, saying it to Harley feels different.

Still, he turns resolutely and moves towards the building, ignoring the other students who can't keep their noses out of other people's business.

\---

Peter feels floaty, like his world isn't really real. He exchanges 'hello's and 'see ya's with his classmates in the accelerated program. They power through Spanish, and History, then take a break for Group Therapy.

Johnny Mendozza and Leigh Brighton are both sporting Black Widow shirts. Leigh's blonde hair is now bright red. She looks happier than she did on Tuesday.

"I found this group, Philly," she says excitedly to their therapist Phillipa Quench "They helped my mom find a job after we came back to find my dad remarried. I mean, it's a shock of course, cause for me my dad was just my dad like a month ago, but now he's got a new family. He's been really great, giving us money for the apartment, but it wasn't enough, you know?"

"That's great!" Philly says, looking pleased that at least one of the students are finding their footing.

"What about you, Peter?" Philly asks "I saw you being dropped off by someone this morning!"

Peter hesitates. He wants to talk about it, but he wants it to be a secret. He wants to shout at the world about how great Tony is, was. But it hurts. Not in the way that being shot shocks the system. Not in the way that a stab tears him open and leaves him with a gaping hurt. Not even in the way that a broken arm feels, like it's bone deep and aching. The hurt he feels now, it's more like the pain of a healing bruise, the kind that he can't stop poking even though it smarts and it stings. Like light sprains, or strained muscles, things that flare up when he accidentally puts pressure on them, but they pass eventually.

"Do you guys remember the internship I had?" he asks softly.

There's a round of nods.

"Harley, he was sort of an intern too. He's been helping me with things," Peter says at last, feeling his face grow hot again "I really looked up to Mr Stark, you know, and coming back to find him gone, it's really... strange."

He also regrets never getting to know Natasha well. Spider-buddies, Peter thinks wryly. They could have been Spider-buddies.

"That is quite difficult," Philly says diplomatically. Peter can tell she doesn't quite believe that Peter could have been an intern but Peter's not too bothered by it. The truth will come out, eventually, when Peter's ready. If he's ever ready.

Still, the little half-truths ease the weight on his chest.

It makes getting through English and Geography so much easier.

\---

Peter goes on patrol like usual as soon as class lets out. He catches a runaway dog and spends twenty minutes chatting with the owner about ' _doggos_ ' and ' _puppers_ ' - he's so glad the terms stayed the same! - before running off to stop a mugger.

Crime is a little slow Queens, mostly because criminals also need to regain their footing after being unvanished, and the reappearance of Spiderman shows them that there's at least one vigilante out there who's still active and not afraid to lay down the law. Peter slowly swings his way over to Hell's Kitchen, stopping one robbery and one purse snatching on his way over. Hell's Kitchen is quiet as well, mostly because DaredevilWatch on Twitter has pegged the man on the prowl.

Peter swings by the warehouses, the docks, then makes his way back to Queens.

"Hey Karen, tell mom I'll be back in-"

Peter catches a flash of red and black. He frowns.

"Peter? Shall I send message?"

"Hold that thought, Karen."

He flings his wrist outwards and shoots a line towards the building, pulling himself up quickly.

"Deadpool," Peter says softly.

The mercernary doesn't turn, looking down at the people moving around below.

"It's a long way down, DP," Peter says cautiously, taking a step forward.

"Not long enough to kill me," Deadpool says in quiet contemplation. Peter continues moving foward until he's standing by the older man.

"You'd risk killing that doggo and traumatizing that lady there," Peter points out the fluffy golden retriever patiently waiting on the sidewalk with his owner.

Deadpool takes four steps to the side. Peter follows.

"You know, I heard Mrs Lopez started working at Taco del Taco again. She was a little shaken after the unvanishing but her daughter moved back to the city to take care of Mrs Lopez and Mrs Lopez said she wanted to do normal so Taco del Taco gave her her job back and now she's making the fillings again. I mean, I love all sorts of tacos but I'm kinda glad that she's back cause all the places I went to don't taste the same anymore, and it's kinda jarring cause we were gone for 5 years but it feels like a couple of months and I'm not ready for different tasting tacos to be very ho-"

"Kid," Deadpool turns his head, the eyes of his mask settling at half mast "What the fuck."

Peter gasps before he even knows it.

"You're an adult, you're not supposed to swear around me!" he accuses, pointing at Deadpool.

Deadpool throws back his head and laughs.

"I think I like you, kid."

"Um, no offense Deadpool but you're kind of old," Peter says, scrunching up his nose "Not like I know how old you are, which is that being presumptous of me? It's just that you're obvs not young and I don't think I'm ready for dating though I'm pretty flattered-"

Peter trails off, and flushes under the mask because Deadpool just keeps laughing and laughing.

"You're mean," Peter pouts, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, sorry," Deadpool says wiping away his tears, "I'll buy you a taco." He sticks his hand out as if for Peter to shake. Peter shakes it enthusiastically.

"I know how to get there real fast! C'mon!"

\---

 

Ned invites Peter and MJ to MIT for the weekend.

Aunt May is highly suspicious of university frat boys but she reasons that MJ will keep Peter in check while he's there, so Peter goes over to MJ's place Friday after school, and waits for her to get out of class so they can drive up to MIT.

It feels weird to be standing around people in Columbia University

Like maybe a fourth of them were born in the same year as Peter, but he's in high school and they're doing their degrees.

He wonders what it'll be like when he finally makes it to university.

"And I'm telling you location and geography matters when we're talking about the oppression of a race due to power dynamics!"

Peter perks up. MJ is coming down the hallway, locked in a heated debate with another student. Peter lets them go at it until finally MJ shakes her head and holds up a hand.

"You do the reading and then we'll talk on Tuesday?"

She catches sight of Peter and comes jogging over.

MJ is still very pretty. Her curly hair has been cropped to shoulder length, and it bounces as she moves. Peter follows the movements of the strands as she draws nearer. It looks soft, like Harley's hair is fluffy soft.

"Hey loser! My bag's in the car! C'mon!"

Peter smiles, trailing behind her as she opens the doors and jogs towards the car.

"We gotta get going if we want to make it there for dinner," MJ explains "Ned said he found some nice dinner place we can sit and chill at."

Peter's struck by how much taller she is now. She always had a few inches on him but she actually got a chance to complete puberty and he didn't. She's taller, a little curvier, her skin glowing even more than he remembered.

His tummy does a little wiggle. She's different now, in a way that Peter can feel, but cannot articulate. Her confidence is the same, the quirk of her mouth when she glances back at him in impatience is the same. But the way she carries herself, it's heavier. Peter can't tell if that's the way growing up just works, or if it's from carrying all the weight of the people who disappeared and picking up the slack where they couldn't.

"Hop to it, nerd!" MJ shouts at him. Peter runs to the car and shoves his bag in the backseat eagerly.

\---

MJ regales him with tales of her 'kids' - the ones she tutors every weekday night. Kids, according to her, are hecking resilient and they bounce back harder and faster than anyone. A lot of them lost parents in the Decimation, or beloved aunts and uncles. They took upon themselves to carry on their parents legacy, studying hard in the hopes of eventually filling the gaps left by missing people. Two of her kids received full-rides to various universities, MJ says with pride, but not before annoying the heck out of her with 'MISS MJ MISS MJ MISS MJ' every single day.

Peter can tell she wouldn't change it for the world.

MJ's family banded together and started up a farm together in the wake of the Decimation, only wanting to spend time together. MJ visits once a month.

But now, MJ got back her dad, an aunt, two uncles, and three cousins after the un-vanishing. One aunt and two other cousins remain missing, mostly victims of the aftermath. MJ speaks of them with a waver in her usually strong voice. Grandmama Watson passed only two months before the un-vanishing, and she didn't have a chance to see the ones who came back.

Still, it's enough to be able to cross 7 names off the memorials. 7 less graves to visit, 7 less deaths to mourn. 7 more lives and decades of borrowed time.

Peter can't help but follow the movement of her lips as she forms the words. She's so much more mature than him now, he muses, she always has been, but now it shows so obviously.

"What you looking at," MJ asks, the side of her mouth quirking up as she looks over at him.

"I'm just..."

Just hurt? She moved on, like she was supposed to, whatever he felt might have been between them is not there anymore. She mourned but she carried on. It was the only logical thing to do. Just displaced? She's trying to let him slide right back into her life, like 5 years of pain didn't happen, like trying to use a piece from a different puzzle in her masterpiece. It might fit but it doesn't look right. Just sad? He missed out on so many things, her first kiss, first date, her first drive, senior prom, Decathlon, her getting into university, helping her move out, all the things friends do with each other, for each other, Peter missed them all.

_But all that doesn't matter right now._

"Just happy," Peter decides, his smile tentative but sincere. MJ is happy. As happy as she can possibly be in the wake of tragedy and hope. He can still tell by the way she tucks her hair behind her ear and laughs when the wind comes blasting in through the open windows. She breathes deeper, she looks up more, her shoulders are relaxed, having finally set down the 5 year weight she was carrying. Her eyes crinkle when she plugs in her phone to the stereo and blasts songs from years ago to make Peter feel at home. In this moment, there are no worries, there are no burdens, just two friends hanging out together.

It's a thread of normalcy in the web of Peter's complicated life.

He latches on with all his sticky fingers and toes, and doesn't let go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY PRIDE MONTH LET'S HAVE SOME FRIEND BONDING SESSION. We're gonna go back to Harley and Peter after this.

MJ pulls into the parking lot near Ned's apartment building. She grabs her bag from the backseat and all but runs to the lift, dragging Peter behind her. He laughs as he stumbles along. Maybe next time, they can go up by webs?

"I haven't seen Ned in almost half a year," MJ says as the elevator crawls up slowly, her smile is wistful and eager "The geek squad back together again."

Peter squeezes her hand as the elevator doors open. Part of it is to comfort her, part of it is because despite the constant texting, Peter hasn't actually  _seen_ Ned in person and this is his best friend. Was his best friend? No, definitely still is his best friend. And Peter doesn't want it to be weird. Logically, he knows that it won't be the same, but he's hoping that it won't be different. Which is all sorts of convoluted. 

MJ doesn't give him a chance to hesitate, rapping on unit 04-05 with a shout of ' _Open up, loser! We're here!_ '

The door nearly flies off its hinges the way the person inside yanks it open.

For the first time in his life, Peter has to look up at Ned. His shaggy hair is held back with a headband and he's sporting a tee with BB-8 on the front, a flannel shirt thrown on haphazardly like he was rushing to leave. While MJ has only grown a couple of inches at most, Ned shot up to just a little over 6 foot 2 inches, sturdy and solid as a tree trunk. Peter's jaw opens in surprise and shock. Seeing it on social media and seeing it in person is wildly different and he's not prepared for the way it screws up his perception of his best friend.

"Peter!" Ned says his name like it's a prayer, the sigh of a person coming home after a long day to blessed familiarity and comfort. 

"Ned," Peter says and he thinks he can hear the same in his own voice. There's a frog stuck in his throat, it seems, because he can't get anything else out.

But that's okay because Ned's surging forward and Peter slap-slap-fistbump-waggles his fingers like it was just yesterday that they were in class together. Ned's hands are larger than he remembers but their friend-shake feels exactly the same. And even though Ned's a head taller than him now, the ensuing giant bear hug is just as comforting as it always has been.

"Ned," Peter breathes out again, closing his eyes to savour the warmth. 

Ned is taller, older, but he still uses the same cologne, still wears the same geeky shirts, still grins like he knows a secret that other people don't. His exuberance overflows like it always has, wearing away the edges of Peter's hurts and insecurity.

MJ shakes her head with a big grin then shoves her way past the two of them to dump her bag on the floor.

"Man, if I wake up I'm gonna be so pissed," Ned says fervently into Peter's hair, swaying from side to side and squeezing tightly

Peter is startled into a laugh.

"If you're dreaming then I am too!" He says, pushing Ned away to study his best friend's face.

There's a faint scar running from Ned's ear to the bottom of his chin that Peter has never seen before, some freckles have faded, some have appeared, there are more lines around his eyes, and Peter is pretty sure Ned's eyes are supposed to be the same shade of dark brown.

"Woah, dude, what the heck!" Peter exclaims, grabbing Ned's face to get a closer look "Is that the newest voice activated eye-motion tracking smartphone linked contact lens?"

"Yup! I just got the prototype done the other day!" Ned crows, bending forward so that Peter can see it better. 

"With the blink speed sensor upgrade and the - "

"Heck yeah! Version 6! I call it Chow Mien! User testing starts next Wednesday. I've got 15 people coming in to test it. Could definitely use your help to make it long lasting and safe for long-term wear cause I'm only on hour 5 and this thing itches!"

"The two of you better get your asses in here instead of canoodling in the hallway!" MJ hollers from inside the unit "Ned, you said we have reservations for 8 do I have time to switch to shorts before we go?"

Ned throws back his head and laughs, the joy radiating from him fills the apartment and spills everywhere. Peter can't help but feel happy as well.

"You can shower too if you want, MJ!" Ned hollers back. He slings one arm around Peter's shoulders and guides him inside.

The apartment is shared with one other flatmate, Haziq Rahman, a sophomore in MIT who's been camping in the library for three weeks now, Ned explains. Some kind of project that requires extensive research. Even though he's not around, Ned informed him of the guests and Haziq agreed to let Peter and MJ stay over as long as no one touched his tea or his gaming console. 

Peter can see touches of Ned everywhere. Some things are obvious, like the plant in a pot painted to look like R2D2 in the corner, the storm trooper themed tumbler on the kitchen counter, _another_  flannel shirt draped over the back of a chair. Some things are less obvious: the fantasy books on the shelf, the shoe rack with the shoes neatly arranged on it, the glasses on the dining room table, the bills pinned to the cork board near the entrance marked ' _paid_ ' in neat print, the reminders to call home to his parents. 

MJ takes a lightning speed shower and Ned demonstrates his new prototype by blinking rapidly 4 times at the pot on the stove. His phone lights up and a mechanical voice says " _That is a pot, Ned._ "

Blink blink eyeroll blink prompts the phone to say "Help! Help! I do not feel safe!", while blink-blink-slowblink-blink prompts a weather report for the day. There's also a board that has symbols and characters on it. Ned types out a sentence by blinking at letters, hits send, and Peter's phone lights up with a chime. 

" _Missed u bro_ "

Peter looks up, unable to say a word.

"I got something for you," Ned says softly. He holds out his hand and Peter grabs it without thinking. 

Ned's room is covered with posters. Some of them are conference proceedings that seem to have been stolen off notice boards, some proudly announce the merits of coding, but the majority is still Star Wars themed. Peter waits as Ned crouches to open up the bottom section of the shelf. 

Peter watches in surprise as the box of the lego Death Star comes into view.

"I cried when I realized you weren't coming back, Peter." Ned offers the box to him with a small, regretful smile "I tried to move on, but every time I saw this, it hurt too much not to cry. My parents wanted me to give it away, sell it, but I couldn't. I just, couldn't. So I took it apart and put it away. But now you're here, we can build it again, together. We can build all of these together," Ned motions to the boxes of Legos. Some of them are brand new, some of them are old models that Peter built with Ned. All of them are unopened, unbuilt.

Peter swallows hard.

"Ned, you didn't have to wait," he whispers, his throat feeling scratchy and dry even as his eye sting with tears.

"I know, but it just wasn't as fun without you," Ned says, as if it's really that simple "Puzzles are meant to be shared, rivers are made to flow. Lego has to be built with my best bud Peter Parker."

Peter drags Ned into another hug, holding on as tightly as he can. The last thing they built together was a self-designed Resistance base. They spent three weeks painstakingly calculating how many bricks they would need to make a scaled model of the base, then five hours at the store counting bricks to buy. For Peter, it was only a couple of months ago. 

For Ned, it's been five years. Ned's passion for sci-fi and fantasy has always shown in his huge love of Lego and building things. Peter couldn't fathom Ned giving it up for anything, he always felt that they could end up 80 years old in a nursing home and Ned would still find a way to purchase and build Legos again.

And yet.

...

And yet he stopped.

Because of Peter.

"We're gonna build everything again," Peter promises "I got funds now I'm gonna buy all the Legos and we're gonna build a flipping fantastic recreation of the entire Star Wars set," he says fervently into Ned's broad shoulder.

Another thread of normalcy, another thing to hold on to. Peter's not going to take it for granted this time, he vows.

* * *

 

Peter feels content. 

The sense of displacement, the sense of strangeness, the niggling idea that something is wrong, all those are gone when he's sitting across from Ned and MJ, listening to them talk about university life, weird hobos, strange habits of the faculty, and terrifying noises in the labs at night. 

Ned's one of the lucky ones. His small family survived the Snap mostly intact. Even the cousin who was dependent on a nurse to for round the clock care, he survived when his nurse vanished, probably only because Ned's parents raced across state borders to find him and get help. His family only mourned Grandpa Leeds who had a heart attack when his senior group vanished before his eyes.

It must have been harrowing, Peter thinks, watching the stations struggle to report because their reporters, journalists, videographers had all disappeared. Car crashes went unattended because ambulance drivers were gone. Even if they were still here, there weren't enough doctors to help everyone. While Ned's cousin was lucky help arrived on time, others weren't so fortunate. People died on operating tables, in factories, in crashes. 

Governments around the world keep running tallies of who Vanished, and who was a casualty of the madness that ensued. 

The counts are in the millions, climbing every day as bodies are still being discovered and identified.

Peter counts himself so lucky. 

He's incredibly blessed. His best friends are alive. His mom is alive. His strange pseudo-mom, sister, and brother are alive. 

Even if his faux-dad is gone, his family is still mostly intact. 

Whatever happens, Peter has to be thankful for that. 

"And the good news is that Trump  _and_ Pence got Vanished but there weren't enough people left to organize an election so basically the people who didn't get Vanished started to do things by themselves and did you know we have a modified affordable healthcare act now? Apparently the government can afford to pay for the reduced population. But taxes increased because the government needed to keep running but there weren't enough people to pay the taxes. Since the population went down, the temperatures also went down crazy fast which is good but now the climate deniers are insisting that climate change never happened,"

"Oh don't get me started on them, I hosed down an idiot on campus for organizing and open burning event for all plastics I mean, hello? The air just got clean and you're polluting it again? The douchebag kept saying that I'd regret it and he tried to scuff up my car but the alarm system you made worked wonders."

Peter smiles as the conversation flows. He picks at his fries and sips his milkshake, feeling incredibly lucky. He loves his friends so much. If he can't trust them, who else can he trust? They've been through emotional hell for him. They deserve the truth, don't they?

"Hey MJ," he says. She turns to him, eyebrows going up in expectation.

"I'm Spiderman," Peter continues. He's going to keep his friends close and to do that, there shouldn't be any secrets. 

Ned starts to laugh and MJ just gives him a pitying look.

"I know, doofus. I figured it out when you climbed out the bus," she says with that look of ' _this poor child_ ' that Peter's knows so well. 

Peter lets out a soft 'oh', grinning at her. He takes a photo of the both of them shaking their heads at him, sends it to Harley.

"Just making sure," he says, slurping up the rest of the milkshake. He flags down the waitress and asks for another.

* * *

They fall sleep talking in Ned's room, squeezed together on Ned's mattress. Peter drifts in and out of sleep, grasping for his friend's pajamas now and then to sleepily assure himself that Ned and MJ are on either side of him. In the first hour or so, Peter thinks he can sense Ned squeeze the meat of his thigh to make sure Peter's there too, but by the second hour, Ned's deep in slumber. 

Peter's heightened sense of hearing means that he can hear a pin drop in a middle of a busy Manhattan street two blocks away if he concentrates. In the silence of the night, the hitch in MJ's breath and the way she sits up too fast means that he focuses on her immediately, even without opening his eyes.

He senses, rather than sees, MJ lean over him, fingers ghosting across his skin lightly. 

She's crying, Peter can taste the salt in the air when it's so close. He opens his eyes and MJ draws her hand back abruptly. Peter sits up slowly, careful not to disturb Ned who's sleeping on the other side. 

"What's wrong, MJ?" Peter asks softly. 

"You know, when you left," MJ begins softly so not to wake Ned "Disappeared," she amends, wiping away her tears with the edge of her blanket.

"I was so angry at myself."

"What, why?" Peter can't help but ask. As far as he knows, MJ hasn't done anything wrong.

"I had sketch after sketch after sketch of you, Peter," MJ says softly "And in all my sketchbooks, I never drew your smile. And I kept asking myself, why didn't I draw one? Just one picture of you being happy, being carefree, something good for me to hold on to without you around."

She turns to look at Peter in the dim light. Her fingers come up to trace the curve of his jaw, then push the corners of Peter's mouth upwards. Peter takes the hint and musters up a smile for her. But tears start to make their way down her cheeks.

"I realized I'd never see you smile again," she confesses "And the only one to blame, was myself. I wasted so much time on drawing negative emotions because I assumed you'd always bounce back and your happiness would always be there. Then one day, you weren't there. And all I had were these sad faces."

"I'm here now," Peter says softly. MJ scrubs at her face with a hand, grinning as she cries. 

"I know, I know. And I still can't believe that I get to see my family again, that I get to see you smile again in person up close," MJ says "Some days, I think it's all a dream and I'll wake up and you will be gone again and all I'll have are those stupid sketchbooks. But I couldn't throw them away because even if they weren't your best emotions, they were still you."

"I'll smile for you," Peter blurts out, squeezing her hand and reaching up to wipe away her tears "I got lots to smile for, you can draw me smiling whenever you like, then you'll know it's not a dream."

MJ hiccups into her hand, nodding vigorously.

"I've got you and Ned and Harley and mom and Pep and Morgan and so many reasons to smile so I'll keep smiling-" the words spill from his lips, tinkling in the quiet. MJ gives him a very fond look. 

"Thanks to Tony Stark, I do too," she says.

 Peter brings her forehead to rest against his.

 _Thank you, Tony,_ Peter thinks to himself, letting MJ just feel his presence and calm herself. 

"Guys?" Ned's voice is filled with confusion. He sits up slowly but it only takes him a second to realize what happened. He doesn't waste words, only drapes his long arms over the two of them and gently eases them back down onto the bed.

"It's okay, we're here, we're all here," he whispers softly. MJ's sobs quiet as she assures herself that they're all safe and sound.

"Sometimes, I dream that I'm alone, that both of you are gone," Ned confesses "I feel like I'm drowning, but there's no one to save me, or save us."

"I'm here," Peter says. He repeats it over and over again "I'm back for good this time. I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you two."

It takes a long time for his two best friends to fall asleep again.

 

* * *

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Aidilfitri everyone! <3 Maaf Zahir & Batin

Peter all but blows up Harley's phone with photos. 

There's Ned and MJ, heads bent together over an exhibit in the MIT museum, then the two of them looking at Peter with mock-disappointed faces, the three of them dabbing in front of the entrance, Peter carrying Ned, then MJ, then both of them at once in a secluded corner of the building. Selfies on the roof, every single dish they ordered at one point or another, Peter's face when he bites into an extra spicy hot dog, three cats, five dogs. 

The last picture, a stealth photo that MJ takes of Peter, laughing as the sun sets behind him on the deck of a Boston Duck Tour boat, Peter puts a tiny caption over it before he sends it to Harley.

> _**PeterP:** U & me nxt time?_  
>  _**HKeener** : ofc. :) <3 <3 <3 js tell me when. _

Peter sends back three hearts before he can stop himself. This is normal, he tells himself. He sends the same pictures to May. Without the captions, but that's cause she's not a Gen Z'er and she's got her job and she's busy. He sends her hearts too. _Five of them._ That's just what Peter does. He loves them, it's normal. Peter sends a few hearts to MJ and Ned in group chat as well to remind them. Then he sends one to Pepper and tells her to tell Morgie he misses them. Pepper sends him a video of Morgan hugging her Iron Bear. The tiny girl grins at the camera and asks ' _Pederpeder, when are you coming over?_ ". 

It takes all of his willpower not to promise her the next five weekends. Peter has to focus on  _school_. That's the important thing, right?

"So when are we going to meet him," MJ asks, scaring the shit out of Peter. He fumbles his phone and nearly drops it.

"What, who? Where?"

"The dude you've been texting all day," MJ says with a glint in her eye. She drapes an arm over Peter's shoulder and it's  _totally_ not fair that both his best friends are now tall enough to lean on him when they're asking pressing questions like these.

"Yeah, dude. I thought you were posting on the gram but your insta's still empty so something is up," Ned chimes in with a huge grin. Peter can't escape. He's sitting on the inner corner of the booth, MJ on the outside. They stare at him through narrowed eyes. 

"Ok fine, his name is Harley Keener, I met him at the funeral."

"Wow, morbid but ok you do you," MJ teases him. Peter rolls his eyes.

"C'mon guys, it's not like that. Mr Stark put us in his will, and asked us to take care of the AI's and his daughter so you know," Peter trails off.

"Wait, Keener one of the models and inventors for Youth Robotics Inc?  Mr 45 spuds per second potato gun Keener? Formally taking over as CEO of Youth Robotics after graduation, Harley Keener?" Ned points at Peter incredulously " _That_ Harley Keener?"

Peter nods, a blush creeping up his face. One of the companies gifted to Harley was Youth Robotics. 

"He's the godbrother person of Morgan Stark!" MJ exclaims in delight. She's on her phone in seconds, pulling up images of the young man in question.

Peter is totally unprepared when she all but shoves her phone in his face. It's Harley, but not like Harley usually is. Instead, this Harley is in a suit. It's a light gray, with a bold blue waistcoat that cinches Harley's already trim waist. His slicked back hair, the tiny quirk of his mouth, Harley looks like he's got something up his sleeve,. He looks older, more mature. Peter feels his face heat up. 

Harley looks  _hot_.

MJ swipes left and oh God. 

The suit is slung casually over one shoulder, his honey brown eyes looking to the side contemplatively while white drapes billow around him, a cup of tea in the other hand. Before Peter can stop MJ, she swipes again and Peter has to bite his lip to keep a ' _meep_ ' from escaping. 

The suit and the waistcoat are gone, it's a close up of Harley as water sluices down his face, his eyes staring right at the camera, one hand cupping his chin seductively, pinky pressing lightly against his lower lip. It's a cover photo for a magazine. The title screams " _Top Ten Hottest Scientists Under 25: Has Science Always looked this good?_ " and Peter's willing to bet that Harley's on the top of that list.

Peter swallows hard. 

"Y... y... yeah, that Harley," Peter whispers, a little stunned. 

"Dude, he's really cute." Ned pushes his fries across the table. Peter takes a bunch and shoves it in his mouth so that he doesn't need to acknowledge the fact that Ned is abso-fricking-lutely right. 

MJ scrutinizes him for a moment.

"He didn't google Keener," she says to Ned "He doesn't know."

"He doesn't know?" Ned squints at Peter incredulously, unable to believe that Peter doesn't know that his new faux-brother is a hot commodity.

"Look at him! He's never seen these photos! His fail-poker face is epic!" MJ joins Ned in squinting at Peter, who's rapidly realizing that his face could possibly fry an egg with how hot it's getting. 

"Oh my god you're right!" Ned says in growing amusement, he's grinning ear to ear as he regards Peter's impression of a slapped fish.

"He told me he was a broke student, he still drives his 1997 Toyota!" Peter protests weakly.

"He probably is, to be honest. Officially, and I'm talking about actual financial records kind of officially, he's donated nearly all of his earnings to mental health institutions, and 3D printing limbs for kids who got injured in the Decimation. After donating to charity and paying off his tuition, he pretty much is broke," MJ says with a casual shrug. She pulls up an interview dated the beginning of the year. 

In it, Harley's dressed in a dark green Henley that hugs his lean frame. His jeans cling to his calves, obvious from the way he's lounging in the chair with one leg crossed atop the other. He's smiling, laughing while nursing a cup of hot chocolate. The interviewer, Kylie Jungol, is a smiling 30 year old woman dressed in a sharply cut pantsuit. She teases and quips and fires a multitude of questions at Harley, who answers with his usual dry and quick wit, avoiding sensitive topics easily and somehow managing to not say anything about his personal life, while saying everything about his personal life. The banter is smooth and easy, and it's clear that Kylie is utterly charmed by Harley's gentle self-deprecating humour and unceasing slew of compliments. 

"He's just Harley," Peter says at last. He knows the geeky, sad, happy, fluffy, cuddly, dorky Harley who's good with kids and wicked smart when putting schematics together. He doesn't know this charismatic smooth talker who is charming the pants off the interviewer.

Well, Peter tells himself,  _not yet_. 

Harley will open up in time, right? 

Peter shakes the thought out of his head.

"He'll tell me if it's important," Peter decides. He has to trust Harley. They're brothers, right?

* * *

 

Peter's heart doesn't twinge when he sees the Iron-Spider in his closet on Monday evening. It still doesn't feel right to put it on yet, but he knows he will in the future. Peter let's his fingers trail over it, but selects one of the other suits instead. May gives him a long look when she sees him in it. 

"M'not ready, mom," he says softly. She just nods and pulls him into a tight hug.

"S'okay Petey, be careful out there, okay?" she whispers and kisses him on the forehead. Peter murmurs his agreement and kisses her cheek before pulling on the mask and climbing out the window.

"You're skipping the Math meet," Karen says in lieu of her usual greeting. Despite the chiding words, she sounds cheerful and happy.

"Hey Karen! Math meet can survive without me, they've got Jenny Eu with them!" Peter protests. 

"Cat in a tree five blocks away, plotting course. By the way, should I start calling you boss?" Karen teases Peter. 

"No way Karen! You and me, we're partners!" Peter says, laughing as he swings through Queens according to the pathway Karen shows him.

"I like the sound of that, Peter," Karen says fondly.

People wave up at him when he goes hurtling by, and Peter waves back. Over the weekend, a hand painted banner has been hung in front of one of the older apartment buildings with the words " _Free Temp Dorms"_. There's a line of people waiting outside as volunteers take their names and usher them into the building. There's also a moving truck and a pile of furniture on the sidewalk. Peter retrieves the cat from the tree as quickly as he can, and returns it to a grateful owner before doubling back to see the new building. 

"Hey Spidey," a girl with bright red hair says when Peter slowly climbs down the wall to the front door. She gives him a bright and cheery grin. 

"Hiya-" Peter reads her badge "Pamela, whacha guys doing? Need any help from the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman?" Peter offers. 

Pamela looks back over her shoulder at the two men hauling a shelf up the stairs. 

"Well, if you can spare a minute, we need to get the donated shelves and beds upstairs and there's only like two guys on logistics right now, the girls are cleaning the rooms upstairs and cooking in the kitchen." She shoots Peter a hopeful smile. 

"Say no more, Pammy-pam-pam!" Peter bounds off to help. 

In the end, it's easier to leave the furniture outside and web it up instead of carrying them up the stairs. He manages to get all of the beds, mattresses, and shelves into the allocated rooms within an hour, saving the volunteers a lot of time. The two guys, Rocky and Ernesto, thank him loudly then run off to get more groceries. 

"So who's funding this?" Peter asks Pam as he hangs from the ceiling, nodding at another young man who looks relieved to be finally off the streets. 

Pamela looks around then shuffles closer to Peter, lowering her voice.

"I heard from Judy, she's the one in charge of the New York chapter of the Black Widows, that Hawkeye was the one who made a sizable donation. He got us this building, and another three. We've opening in a couple of weeks. Now, I don't know about the new government cause I just got unsnapped too, but I'm pretty sure building regs and transfers don't get through this fast so we think he pulled some strings. We're not gonna rat him out, you know, but we'd appreciate if someone had his back on this, in case things go south," Pamela says softly, she winks at Peter.

Peter's heart does a flip flop. Is this for real? She's asking Spiderman to help watch Hawkeye's back? She's aware that Spiderman's just small-time, right? Spiderman stops robberies and petty thefts. Spiderman helps old ladies cross the road and saves cats from three.. He doesn't keep an eye on other superheroes, some might argue that he needs an eye kept on him! Still, it's super flattering that Pamela thinks him capable.

"Sure Pam, I'll keep my web tight," Peter promises, giving her a fist bump before climbing up the side of the wall.

"Man attempting robbery three blocks away," Karen says to Peter, and then he's off again.

* * *

 

Peter's homework is done. He got home in time for curfew, a taco supper courtesy of Deadpool sitting in his tummy. May had a great day at work, so did Peter. He showers, and then flops onto his bed with a satisfied sigh, pulling out his phone to tell his friends he's back home. 

Judging by MJ's socmed stories, she's busy at a poetry slam thing that runs till 3 am, so she doesn't reply. Ned just shoots him five thumbs up emojis and a smiling cat. Harley's the only one who sends him an actual sentence.

> _**Hkeener:** How's patrol?_  
>  _**PeterP:** S gud, saved a cat, moved furniture._  
>  _**Hkeener** : wat_  
>  _**PeterP** : Hawkeye donated funds, new building, for homelss, i mved furniture._  
>  _**Hkeener** : ohdat. yup. he'll b in town next couple weeks. _  
>  _**PeterP** : u helped him wif dat?_  
>  _**Hkeener** : yupyup put him in cntact with Judy, found building n lawyers 2_  
>  _**PeterP** : u coming over 2?_  
>  _**HKeener** : hmm ntsure yet, finals._  
>  _**PeterP** : miss u :< :< :< _  
>  _**HKeener** : <img1849.jpg> mizu too_  
> 

Peter bites his lip at the selfie of Harley hugging a pillow, dark circles under his eyes and showing off a little heart with his thumb and forefinger. He's sitting at his table, a pile of books and rolled up papers on the bed behind him. Even in the poorly lit photo, Harley looks good. Peter snaps a selfie with a finger-heart and a wink, then sends it to Harley.

> _**PeterP** : dun work 2 hard, get some rest. <img4951.jpg>_  
>  _**HKeener** : haha coming frm mr i thwip quip n make crime flip_  
>  _**PeterP** :  wutthefuck_  
>  _**Hkeener** : i mite be a lil tired_  
>  _**PeterP** : go sleep_  
>  _**HKeener** : will u b there?_  
>  _**PeterP** : where_  
>  _**HKeener** : in my dreams?_

Peter's heart does a little flip flop. Ugh, this man, the cheese, why. But also, yes? Peter wants to smack him and also hug him at the same time!

> _**PeterP** : ... let me ask my mom..._  
>  _**PeterP** : she said no :P :P :P_  
>  _**HKeener** : :< :< :< :<  8< 8< 8< 8< TT.TT_  
>  _**PeterP** : i wil b here, in my room, alone ;)_  
>  _**Hkeener** : an invitation? :o_  
>  _**PeterP** : u r always welcom in my room <3_  
>  _**HKeener** : <3 <3 <3 ( o //// o )_  
>  _**PeterP** : srsly tho, go sleep. Im going too._  
>  _**Hkeener** : gudnite <3_  
>  _**PeterP** : u too <3_

The smile on his face, Peter has to massage his cheeks so the muscles don't cramp up because he's grinning at his phone like a  _goddamn fool_.

Things will never go back to ' _normal_ ' again, not with so many changes, and problems, and issues, and people being misplaced or displaced. Things cannot be as they once were. Too much death, too much loss, too much pain and suffering has suffused the world. This is a simple fact, and Peter knows this. No matter how much he wishes, he cannot return to the day he and his best friends got on the bus. Even with all the tech and the help Tony had, he could not undo 5 years of pain and suffering. He could only move on from pain and tragedy. Peter, too, is moving on slowly but surely, redefining what  _normal_ means to a legally 21 year old teenager slash vigilante slash superhero slash joint heir of a massive empire. 

And Harley, Peter hopes, will want to be part of it.  

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time. 
> 
> Time for some pain.

 

"Robbery on Main Street, jewelry store, civilians on the scene," Karen says suddenly halfway through Peter's usual patrol. As if on cue, Peter hears gunshots. It's easy to follow the screaming and the sound of of things breaking to the scene of the crime. Peter sticks to the side of the building opposite the incident and assesses the situation.

"I see four men, that right Karen?"

"Five, one inside the vault," Karen supplies. 

"Ten, twelve, fifteen guns woah," Peter counts as Karen highlights them on his HUD "These guys are really serious!" Peter bites his lip. There are civilians cowering all around, four who appear to be civilians and two wearing the uniform of the store. Their safety is Peter's first priority. At the current angle, he can take out three people with electrowebbing, but that would alert the other two robbers. 

"We have a flashbang somewhere, right?" Peter asks. 

"Not in this suit, Peter. It's in the Iron Spider," Karen sounds apologetic. Peter winces. He has to do this the usual way then. 

He leaps for the building under siege and then climbs down the walls, stopping just above the broken window. The robbers don't seem to have noticed, fully intent on getting what they came for. 

Peter launches himself in through the window.

Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip.

Three webs hit their targets in quick succession. One goes over the eyes of Mr Tall Bald and Angry, the other webs Scarface's hands together, and then the last gets ScaryLady in the ankles, sending her tumbling to the ground. Peter doesn't stop moving. He grabs the guns within reach and tosses them out the window. Where's the fourth person? Peter sensed him but he doesn't see him and the web he shot hit the wall instead. He pats down Tall Bald Angry and manages to grab a gun from inside his jacket, then webs the dude to the wall, tossing the guns away as well. 

"Get out!" Peter shouts at the hostages. The mousy lady in the front is the first to stand and bolt, dragging an equally mousy looking man with her. The pony-tailed salesgirl grabs her customer and books it out the back instead, screaming as she goes. Where's the fourth man? Peter ducks on instinct and sweeps his leg behind him. There's an angry yell as someone stumbles. Peter flings out a web and yanks, ripping something off. 

It's so weird to see a floating head, Peter thinks abstractly, even as he's moving. Stealth tech. Where did they get it from? Peter sets that aside for the moment, dodging something that swung at his head, and then reaching out to grab the spot below the floating head. His hand meets fabric. Peter rips it, exposing another part of the person in the stealth suit. 

"Bug the _fuck_ out!" Stealth-guy snarls, swinging something again. Peter, leaps, sticks himself to the ceiling and then webs the guy to the floor. 

Oh wow, it really looks weird to have a floating head and arm waving around while the rest of the person is covered in webs. 

Now for Number five.

Peter's internal alarm goes off. He spins around in time to see Robber Five lift a gun. 

It's not aimed at him. 

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Shit!

Peter tackles the remaining salesperson to the ground as something slams into his thigh. Around him, he can hear glass shattering as even more display cases break. The salesperson, a young man with blond hair, yelps in terror and pain as he hits the floor.

"Peter, you've been shot." Karen's voice sounds high and panicky. 

"Copy that, Karen! Where's number five!?" Peter rasps out, getting to his feet. He spares a moment to touch the area and motions for the blonde man to get the heck out of there. 

He can feel the entry hole. There's no exit. _He can feel the bullet_. It's stuck in the muscle, just rubbing against the flesh inside. No, nono _nono_ NONO he can't focus on that now. Peter sticks a patch of web over it to stop the bleeding first. He'll deal with the scritchy skin crawling sensation of bullet in leg later. He's got a job to do first!

"You shouldn't have interfered," Number five says. He tosses his gun aside then brings out an even bigger weapon. It looks vaguely similar to the one Peter saw a long time ago when he tried to stop Mr Toomes. It was still being produced? Karen throws up specs across his HUD. It's not exactly the same. Karen predicts the output as concussive force instead of disintegrative force. But that's still really bad. Peter puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Behind him, the salesperson helps the last customer up from behind an overturned broken display case, then quickly limp out of the shop. Peter inches forward. There are civilians around. He's not entirely sure how much force that thing has. Is he going to take the chance?

"You can still turn this around. No one needs to get hurt," Peter says softly, holding his hands out to placate Number Five. 

Number Five sneers, the weapon hums. Peter flings out his wrist as the man pulls the trigger.

FWOOOOMPH.

For a split second, there's no pain, just silence. Peter vaguely realizes he's flying through the air. He hits something, two things, _something breaks_ , then hits the ground rolling. 

The sky is really blue today, Peter thinks. 

He's on his back, a fluffy cloud overhead. There are people screaming but they seem a little far away. 

Then the pain hits all at once. 

owowowOWOWOW **owowowowoOWOWOWOWOWOW**. 

His back and his left side are on fire. There are dozens of stabbing pains, mostly because from what Peter can see, there are dozens of glass shards sticking out of him. No, _no_ he can't stop now. Peter struggles to his feet. 

"Peter, Peter can you hear me?" Karen asks, panicked. 

"I'm okay, Karen," Peter rasps out. He's not okay. He's not. He's a _pincushion_ right now. He stumbles towards the shop. 

Number five is struggling against the webs. Spewing expletives. Peter looks around. 

The employees are fine. The customers are fine. The robbers are webbed up. One, two, three, four, five. Yes. Five. Robbers. Good. 

"Peter, you need medical attention. Peter? Peter!" 

"M'fine." Peter takes a  _deep breath_ and then webs up his side as well. He needs to get away. He's not ready for the world to know Spiderman's true identity. Not today. He's gotta go. 

"You need to go home, Peter. I'm calling May-" Karen starts to say. 

"No! She needs the work!" Peter protests. Or more accurately, her patients need her. They need a capable level-headed nurse that will ensure that they get the best care possible. He stumbles towards the nearest building and scales it as quickly as he can to the astonishment and awe of the onlookers. He disappears over the top of the roof just as the first police car arrives on the scene. 

Peter stumbles, limps, whimpers as he tries to put more distance between him and the crime-scene. 

"Shall I contact..." Karen doesn't know who to contact either. There's no one in the city that can help him since all the Avengers have mostly dispersed. Ned and MJ are out of the question, May is on shift in the hospital till late, Harley's in university too, he doesn't know where's Daredevil, even Wanda who's supposed to staying near the compound she's too far away. Strange? He doesn't know how to contact Strange. 

His best bet is May. But even if May comes home right now, Peter knows their first aid kit isn't equipped well enough for this. Besides, he can't take her away from the hospital when they're still understaffed and struggling to keep up. No, he's gotta do this himself. He's gotta keep walking, keep crawling. 

owowowOWfecking-heck okay maybe a short rest. 

Peter pauses on one of the rooftops. His breath is coming in short pants, not good. Is he hyperventilating? No, not yet, he's going into something like shock though. Maybe? Peter really needs to read up on these things. 

Theoretically speaking, Peter could leave the bullet inside, people do it all the time, it's fine, he's fine, he'll be fine, right? But the thought of having something grinding against the insides of his flesh just gives Peter the heebie jeebies and he can't deal with it right now. Peter shivers just thinking about it. But even if he can leave the bullet inside, he can't leave the glass inside. 

"Deadpool was sighted earlier," Karen says, sounding uncertain. She doesn't quite approve of Peter getting too close to the mercenary, thinking the older man to be a dubious influence on Peter.

"Can we even contact him?" Peter asks, gingerly deploying some webs to stop himself from losing anymore blood.

"Darkweb has his work phone number," Karen says, sounding worried "You've lost approximately 2.0 pints of blood, there's a few foreign bodies wedged in your side, Deadpool is the closest option."

She dials the number as soon as Peter nods.

"Marty's Morticians you stab em we fab em!" Deadpool chirps.

"DP! It's Spiderman I uh I kind of need help are you in the area I'm bleeding out on-" Peter leans over the edge of the building to squint at the street name "16th Street Downtown please I need your help can you dig a bullet out of me please it's gross and I just - ew - and I don't have tweezers do you have tweezers cause I got thrown through a display and it was not fun and oh gosh DP please tell me you have tweezers."

"Spidey, breathe with me, where can we meet? I have a place but it's far. Is there any place that can hold us for a moment."

The apartment is close by, but does Peter trust Deadpool with his address? More importantly, does Peter trust Deadpool with his mom? He thinks Deadpool is nice enough, but he is an ex mercenary and who knows what kind of trouble Deadpool can bring down on May. Then again, does Peter trust Deadpool enough to go to  _his_ house? Where ever that is?

Peter doesn't really have any other options.

"Your place, where is it?" 

DP rattles off an address. Peter groans as he realizes it's another 30 agonizing minutes of swinging.

"No choice, baby boy, you gotta bear it. Come on, you can do it!" There's an strange tone to DP's voice, but Peter doesn't want to think about it. He gets up and limps to the edge of the building.

"I'll be there, Deadpool, please have tweezers," Peter all but whimpers.

"I'll have tweezers, Spidey, I promise," Deadpool hangs up and Peter has to lower himself down into traffic. 

The best and worst thing about New York is traffic. Thankfully, there's a young couple who let Spidey ride the top of their old Corolla for six blocks before Peter has to change cars. A bus driver notices him and lets him stick on the side for another two blocks before they're at the edge of the city and the end of the bus route. Peter stumbles the last mile of the way and crawls up the side of the ratty building DP calls home.

The window is open. Peter pours himself inside and collapses on the floor with a sob of relief. 

Deadpool's hands are on him immediately, easing him into a sitting position against the couch. He tugs gently at the webs, frowning when they don't move.

"Engaging solvent mode" Karen says, sounding grim. Peter grits his teeth and sprays the solvent onto his side. 

He howls in pain. The solvent was never meant for use on human skin and it  _burns_. Oh gosh he's got to find some way to work on that he's  _never_ doing that again!

"Easy easy!" Deadpool grabs him and presses something against his mouth. Peter slides the mask up and bites down hard. The sharp scent of leather from the belt jolts him away from the pain for a moment. He whimpers, looking up at Deadpool with watery eyes.

"Get em out please," Peter begs. It comes out as ' _Ge-rem ow psh"_ but Deadpool seems to understand. Peter presses the symbol on his chest and the suit sags around him. Deadpool pulls it off in a hurry, helping Peter to get his arms and legs out. He holds up a bottle of something labeled " _Antiseptic"_.

"This is going to hurt too," DP says and Peter nods in resignation.

A bottle of something  _burning_ is poured over his side and Peter hurts  _so bad_ that he sees stars for a moment. He doesn't even have energy to scream, only whimper and tremble as the liquid soaks into the open wounds and runs down his sides onto the ratty couch and the floor.

"Drink," DP says, shoving a massive cup with a straw into Peter's hands. Peter, addled by the pain, doesn't think twice before spitting out the belt and drinking without hesitation. 

The first sip is sickeningly sweet and fruity. It's a protein shake of some sort. The overwhelmingly artificial taste distracts Peter somewhat from the scratching feeling when DP all but stabs him in the back with the tweezers and extracts the glass shards.

"Fuck," DP says. 

"You're swearing!" Peter protests weakly, between mouthfuls of the protein shake. He keeps his gaze resolutely turned in the other direction as the older man pulls the glass from his flesh, not wanting to see how many things Deadpool is digging out of his flesh. Every time the tweezers go in, Peter drinks from the protein shake because the drag of metal and glass through his flesh lights up all the nerve endings in the area in a way that feels like the equivalent of nails on chalkboard but in his body instead. It shouldn't work, but somehow, drinking the fruity sludge takes the edge off. A normal shake won't do that, Peter realizes belatedly.

"Whatcha put in this?" Peter slurs at Deadpool.

"Super strength sedatives and a knock-out drug," Deadpool says easily, as if drugs are something everyone has access to whenever they want it, "Watered down a little but should be enough to keep you out for the worst of the pain."

Peter can't find the energy to be outraged and horrified that the person he trusted has just  _drugged_ him because it hurts so much and Deadpool didn't have to help him but he is helping now and Peter just - owowowowowowoOwwwwww - he'll deal with the morals of everything later because he doesn't want to be thinking right now. Peter chugs the rest of the protein shake and succumbs to unconsciousness as Deadpool starts cutting into the meat of his thigh to get at the bullet. 

 

* * *

 

 

"You awake?" 

Peter blinks several times. Everything hurts. His head is spinning. His mask is still settled over the bridge of his nose where he left it, no higher, no lower.

"M'wake," he replies, opening his eyes fully and turning to look at the older man kneeling on the floor beside the couch. 

Deadpool looks at him closely and puts a bare hand on Peter's forehead. The hand is cool and makes Peter whimper in relief. He can feel the bumpy texture of Deadpool's scarred flesh even through the mask, it's mildly fascinating enough to hold his attention and distract him from the stabbing ache in his side and thigh. Deadpool hums deep in his throat. He reaches over to the table and brings out another giant cup, pushing it into Peter's hands.

"No more drugs, DP please," Peter begs, wishing he doesn't sound so pathetic. 

"Just protein and sugar," Deadpool assures him, helping Peter to sit up. Peter touches his side briefly. Fluffy soft bandages are taped down securely. There's one around his thigh as well. The dressing looks professional, pretty, even. Deadpool's experience shows well.

Deadpool wiggles the giant cup at him again, a clear 'take this' gesture.

Peter takes the offered cup and squints at Deadpool.

"Protein and sugar. Healing factors work faster when you eat enough. Trust me, I'm an expert."

Well, Deadpool  _is_ the expert. No one knows exactly how many times the mercenary has died. Peter has heard people betting on the thousands. Peter also thinks it's bad manners to bet on people's number of deaths and regenerations but he doesn't say anything, just squints into the brown sludge and drinks it anyway.  

"You..." Deadpool brings out the shiny kidney bean shaped pan "... had like a few million dollars in you."

Among the glass shards, there are a few diamonds. Six, to be precise. Peter blinks in surprise even as he slurps up the surprisingly delicious shake.

"Care to elaborate?" 

Peter can see his mouth twitching even through the mask.

"Five men, energy weapons, robbing a diamond store. I webbed four of them in the shop. Fifth got me and blasted me through the window and the display cases when I was trying to talk him down. No casualties, was ok."

"You're the casualty," Deadpool says grimly.

"Mngh, Spiderman will be fine," Peter says. He can tell Deadpool's not too happy with that by Peter avoids talking but chugging the rest of the protein shake. It's chocolatey and maltey and tastes really good and hecking heck when did he get so hungry?!

"Thank you Deadpool, I'm really sorry for bothering you about this but Mr Stark isn't here and usually i would ask him for help but he's not here anymore and I -"

"Wade, and it's fine."

Deadpool settles back on his haunches, he tilts his head to one side. 

"Anyone you can call?" He asks, eyes of his mask going into a squint. 

Peter nods, rolling down his mask.

"Karen?"

"Glad to see you're okay, Peter," Karen says, sounding quite relieved. Peter's relieved to hear her as well. 

"Time?"

"11.26 pm. 6 voice messages and 21 texts from May." She sounds apologetic and tired, which really shouldn't be possible for an AI but Peter has given up on 'should's and 'should not's when Tony's creations are involved. He winces instead, feeling the guilt start to build in the middle of his chest. 

"I assured her that you were in good hands but she insisted on a check-in as soon as possible," Karen informs Peter.

Peter nods.

"Call her back now."

It rings several times before there's a worried ' _Peter_?' on the other end.

"Mom, I'm alright, I'm alright. I fell asleep when my friend was patching me up." 

There's a sob of relief on the other end. 

"Oh gosh Peter, don't  _do that_ to me again! I didn't know where you  _were_ or who you were  _with!_ I  _just_ got you back Peter don't let me lose you again!" May sobs over the phone. 

Peter feels like a giant tool. He went and fainted without letting his mom know where he was or how he was. She lost so much over the course of her life. The raw wound of his disappearance had only just started to heal when he had come back and now Peter went and almost disappeared on her again.

"I'm coming home now. I'm awake. I've eaten something. I'm patched up all nice and peachy. I'm fine," Peter says, wincing as Wade gives him an incredulous look for the blatant lie. Peter can feel his disapproval through the mask and it's even worse because you  _know_ you're an asshole when even a mercenary with questionable morals disapproves of your actions. 

"Are you sure you can move? Because I know how you are, Petey, I know you tell me you're fine when you're not! Please don't lie to me."

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. He can't lie to her. Not mom. 

"It hurts, but I can move. Not irritating enough to interfere with my thoughts," Peter starts. There's a quiet sob on the other end, but Peter plunges on "My friend cleaned and stitched me up. I'm not bleeding anymore. I'm dizzy, but I didn't get any head trauma so it's probably low blood pressure and blood sugar. I'm currently drinking a protein shake at my friend's place. It's helping. Sort of."

There's another muffled sound of anguish, then a resolute sniffle.

"Okay, okay I can deal with that. I can definitely handle this. Are you well enough to come home? If it hurts too much, just sit for awhile and recover please don't force yourself to move if you can't. I'll send a car to get you. I'll get a cab and come over to get you if your super-friend is okay with it. If you can't move, just let me know where you are I'll come over. We'll figure something out."

"I..." Peter really takes a moment to take stock of himself. 

It still hurts, but his healing factor has kicked in courtesy of having enough energy from whatever DP keeps giving him. Peter peeks under the gauze. Some of the cuts have already turned into angry red lines well on their way to healing. 

"I think I can come home," Peter says "Some of the wounds have already scabbed over. But if it's okay with you, I think I'll sit for another half an hour before I call a cab."

"Okay, that's okay. Good Peter. Thank you for telling me the truth. I love you, Peter." 

Peter feels all the love and relief poured into those four words, a solid assurance that no matter what happens, May will have his back. 

"I love you too, mom." Peter tries to infuse his reply with the love and care he feels for May as well. He hopes she hears it. 

The call disconnects.

"Mom, huh." Wade wanders into the kitchen, and grabs _another_ protein shake. 

Peter freezes, mask eyes going wide in fear. He just let it slip so naturally. How could he?!

"Geez kid, I'm not going to go blabbing about my NYC baby-boy. What do you take me for?" Wade complains, putting his hand over his heart. Peter feels a little guilty. The guy just helped to patch him up and Peter gives him nothing but suspicion. Wade hands the new shake to Peter. This time, it's strawberry and lemongrass, which is kinda weird but refreshing at the same time. The strange flavour combination is a good distraction. 

"Thanks, Wade." Peter gives him a grateful look. Well, as grateful as one can seem when in his bloody boxers with gauze all over him. 

"No biggie, Petey. You're a good kid," Wade settles down cross legged in front of Peter on the floor.

"We gotta talk business though, Spidey."

"I'll pay you back for the first aid stuffs," Peter says quickly, "I'll replace everything I used I promised I'll buy you tacos too, as much as you want,"

"Not that, kid," Deadpool says, holding up a hand "Your business. As in, who's going to be your back up plan and nurse if you get hurt again cause as much as I like you kid, I'm not always going to be around."

In that moment, Peter wants two people. First, May to hold his hand and tell him he's going to be okay cause she's his mom and mom's always know best, right? Then, Harley to cuddle and snuggle and hug because the other male is warm and smells good. Harley knows that Peter  _has_ to do this because this is Tony and Ben's legacy, the safety of the people is in his hands. Harley won't begrudge him that.

But as much as those two people love him, they're not always going to be around either. May can't quit her job or just keep taking morning shifts for the rest of her work life. That's just not feasible. And Harley, he's too far away and Peter can't expect him to drop his company, or his life to come and save Peter. 

"Fu-firetrucking sticks, kid." Wade runs his scarred hands over the top of his mask, emanating a sort of resigned worry that Peter has only ever felt from Ben, May, and Tony. 

"I'm calling Red. He needs to teach you some tricks before you get yourself killed," Wade stands up, shaking his head. 

"I'm sorry," Peter says weakly. If he had just been a little faster, thought a little quicker on his feet, this wouldn't have happened. 

"No, none of that self-esteem bullshit, okay?" Wade waggles his finger in Peter's face as he pulls out a phone covered in Hello Kitty stickers "You're a kid. You make mistakes. It's natural. It's part of growing up. You think I came out this awesome? I had to work on it too. We gotta focus on learning from those mistakes and making sure you got somewhere to go if you get hurt." He pets the top of Peter's head then disappears into the bedroom to make some calls. 

Peter stares after his retreating back, unsure of just happened. Did he... just get lectured... by Deadpool? Was that a lecture? He didn't think that Wade liked him much, just tolerated him a bit, but now he was planning to teach Peter things? Was this really happening? Peter chewed on the straw with a frown. 

"Karen?" 

"Yes, Peter?"

"Call ... no, um. Text. No. Call. Call Harley,"  Peter decides. 

The phone rings on the other end. Despite the late hour, Harley picks up. There's a sleepy ' _mra_?' from the older male and Peter can't help but smile. He knows the half asleep expression that will be on Harley's face right now. 

"Petey? What's up?" Harley yawns and makes a little ' _mya_ ' as he stretches.

"Harley, I -" Peter grasps for words. Wanted to hear your voice, wanted to tell you I miss you, wanted to hear you say my name, wanted to hold you. "I got shot."

"What."

"There was a robbery."

" _What._ "

"No civilian casualties which is good."

" _WHAT._ "

"I'm at Deadpool's safehouse thing which is surprisingly cosy and he patched me up really well. Anyway, I told mom and I'm going home in a bit but I wanted to keep you in the loop but I don't think this is the kind of stuff that I should text about but I think I woke you up and I'm so sorry about that I'll let you sleep now-"

"Don't you  _dare_ hang up on me Peter Parker! You're with Deadpool??!? Isn't he the mercenary guy?" Are you sure that's safe? Peter Benjamin Parker you either need to get your ass down here so I can look after you or you know what fuck it I have enough credits to graduate I'm coming back there -"

"I'm fine!" Peter protests "I'm not even shaking anymore!"

" _That_ is  _not_ a good measurement of  _how fine you are!_ " Harley all but yells over the phone. 

Peter can hear his harsh breathing through the interface. It shakes Peter more than he thought it would. 

"Why are you so angry?" Peter asks softly, he's never heard Harley yell before and not only is it scary, it makes Peter feel terrible. He doesn't want Harley to be mad at him. 

"You got shot and I'm worried and fuck me if I'm loud I can't help that I'm scared that my friend might die one day because I wasn't there to help him!" 

There's a pregnant pause.

"A friend," Peter says weakly, thinking of the meme. There's a muffled exasperated sob from Harley who evidently also got the reference.

"You swear you're alright?" Harley says at last. His voice is shaky. 

"I'll be okay. Deadpool's feeding me protein shakes. I'm all stitched up and he's really nice to be honest."

"Keep me posted, Peter. I can't lose you too."

A warm swoopy feeling settles around Peter like a weighted blanket. 

"I'll text you when I get home, and then when I wake up again." Peter promises.

There's a sigh of relief from Harley.

"Be careful, Petey. Luv ya." 

"Luv ya too." 

Wade chooses this moment to reenter the room.

"Gotta go, H- uh - babe." Peter wants to smack himself. Wade' mask somehow manage to convey that his eyebrows are rising up really high. Harley grunts an affirmative and hangs up. 

Wade does not comment on the endearment. He hands Peter a piece of paper with a number on it and thumps a stack of clothing down onto the table.

"That's Red's number. You call him after you heal up. And you tell him," Wade holds up a hand to quell Peter's protests "You need hand-to-hand combat training  _and_ a back up plan for when you get injured and or arrested. Capische?"

Peter nods mutely, sucking on the straw. It was like Tony all over again, yelling at him because of the ferry and Peter getting into trouble. Peter knows now that Tony only yelled because he was concerned. Based on past experience, Wade is also yelling because of concern. It is surprisingly touching. Wade gives him a long look, runs a hand over his masked face, then sighs.

"When you're done, you can get dressed or something I'll get you a cab."

* * *

 

 

Dopinder is pretty chill about having two masked vigilantes in his car. He chatters on and on about random things with Wade as they weave through the traffic. Peter dozes, head lolling against the headrest of the backseat, arms wrapped around the woven bag that holds his bloody suit and the diamonds that he'll have to return sooner or later.

Wade rouses him as they're pulling up to the apartment. 

"Thanks DP. Really 'ppreciate it," Peter manages to say before he stumbles into the building. He turns to wave at the cab, which peels off like a bat out of hell with Cerberus on its tail.

May smothers Peter with kisses and hugs and insists on inspecting the injuries while the suit goes into a tub of cold water to soak.

All of them have already scabbed over. But they're sore and tender to the touch, making Peter feel like one large bruise. He submits to May's fussing quietly, knowing that tonight scared her like nothing before, especially since they both know he doesn't have back up now. 

"We're gonna work out a plan later," May assures him as she helps him into bed.

"I'll call you in sick to school tomorrow, okay? Get some rest, I love you, Peter."

Peter, eyes closed, feels her lips brush his forehead. He cracks his eyes open long enough to mumble a soft ' _Love you too, mom_ ', before he's out like a light.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Far From home kicked my ass and life is also kicking my ass. In the meantime, have some pure Harley/Peter fluff to tide you over until better things happen.
> 
> come find me on tumblr too: genderqueernerd

_"- the surgery - two hours -"_

 

 

The words float at the edge of his mind, barely making a blip in the hazy depths of Peter's deep slumber. He's tired, every tiny molecule of him too exhausted to vibrate, but even then, he still aches. 

_" -leave him? -"_

 

Mom. 

 

Mom?

 

Peter tries to rally his thoughts, push to the surface. 

" _-stay with him - save lives -_ "

 

The other voice sounds familiar. He knows it, knows it well. He likes it too. 

But it's too hard to wake. 

 

Peter lets himself drift again. Sounds flit by, lighting up his internal radar from time to time. His sixth sense is quiet, almost absent. Peter likes this. He's covered in something soft. Despite the bone deep weariness and the thrumming ache, he's comfortable. 

 

Comfortable-ish.

 

He drifts and drifts for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

A hand touches his forehead. 

 

" _Peter_?"

 

Mmmmmm.

 

"Peter, wake up."

 

Peter musters his strength. He doesn't really want to wake but that voice is familiar and he wants to hear it some more and be close to it.

 

He manages to crack his eyes open. 

 

"Babe, you gotta wake up, you need to eat," the person says.

Peter forces his eyes open with Herculean effort. 

In the dim light, the silhouette is familiar, a welcome figure.

"H-ls?" Peter rasps. 

"Mm, Petey, here, sit up for me."

There's a hand snaking under his shoulder blades, gently helping him up into a sitting position. Peter goes, a little unwilling to leave the comfort of sleep. 

"Don't lie back down," Harley says. The longer Peter keeps his eyes open, the more details register. 

Harley's dressed in a loose shirt and what look to be Peter's pajama bottoms. The older male looks tired as well, worry written across his face plain as day. Peter grabs at his wrist weakly.

"Why?" he slurs.

_Why are you here, why did you come, why do you bother?_

"I called your aunt and she said you were sleeping, but I was still worried, so I drove down." Harley takes Peter's fingers and presses them up against a cup.

"Just water, and some vitamins."

Peter drinks. 

The first drop of water on his tongue only serves to show him how thirsty he actually is. Peter pushes away the straw and chugs it, throat working frantically to get as much moisture as it can. He barely tastes the citrus tang of the vitamins.

"Slow down, babe!" Harley says, he disappears from the room and brings back something that smells really, really hecking good. Peter sets aside his empty cup and makes grabby hands at it.

Harley laughs, taking the cup and putting the tray on Peter's lap.

Oh gosh, Peter moans at the smell.

Chicken mushroom broth. Chicken mushroom broth from Mr Lin's diner three blocks away. The herbal scent pierces his nostrils, beckoning. It's a light, clear broth, but with Chicken and Shiitake mushrooms, cooked in a clay pot, steeped with Goji berries and ginger. Mr Lin always swore it helped to rejuvenate the body.

Peter lifts the bowl to his mouth and drinks deeply. 

"Woah, slow down, slow down! There's more of that where that came from," Harley gently tugs the bowl away.

Peter blinks at him, mind still hazy from sleep.

 "But m'hungry," Peter protests, whining a little.

"I know, hun, but you gotta pace yourself," Harley says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"Come on, hold on to the bowl, up you get!" Harley grabs hold of Peter's thin ankles, his long fingers almost going all the way around, and then slides them to the side so Peter's legs are off the side of the bed. He places Peter's bare feet flat on the ground and wraps one arm around Peter's shoulders.

Peter hisses, his body feeling like a giant bruise when his muscles stretch and pull. He clutches the bowl of soup carefully, taking smaller sips from it as Harley slowly guides him to the kitchen.

There's a stack of takeout boxes on the table. Peter whines in anticipation when he realizes there's his favourite pasta, and his beloved sweet-and-sour fish, and pizza, and nnngh- he doesn't know where to start! Harley solves this problem by directing Peter to the nearest chair and opening the still-warm box of chicken porridge that goes with the herbal soup. Peter grabs the spoon and digs in without a second thought. 

The light, airy taste of the porridge goes together perfectly with the rich broth. Not to mention, the chicken has been slow cooked until the meat is falling off the bone, tender and suffused with all the herbal spices. 

"Mmmmmmngh, Harley-" 

Peter holds out his spoon in a clear invitation for Harley to take a bite. 

Harley doesn't hesitate for even a second, opening his mouth for Peter to feed him.

"That is good," Harley agrees. Peter can't help but smile.

"Wer's muh mom," Peter asks in between mouthfuls.

"There were surgeries scheduled for today, she wanted to call in busy but I persuaded her to go. She's gonna leave her shift early though," Harley says. He takes the seat next to Peter and cracks open the Soy-sauce pork ribs. 

"Hnnngh," Peter says, both as a sound of acknowledgement and also because those ribs smell delicious too!

Harley obliges him by placing a piece in Peter's porridge. 

Peter attacks with a sound of gratitude.

Harley readies bowl after bowl of food, letting Peter devour as much as he wants. And when Peter's finally too full to eat another bite, Harley leads him to the couch and makes him pull up his shirt. 

"Ow," Peter protests feebly as Harley pokes at the wounds from last night. Some time in the night, they have gone from weeping wounds to angry red lines. Harley gently pries away all the cotton and picks out the stitches with a tiny pair of surgical scissors. The sensation of thread being pulled through the skin feels incredible gross and Peter can't help but whine and squirm.

"C'mon Petey-pie, hold still for me," Harley soothes him with a hand on Peter's hip. 

"Feels gross," Peter says, feeling all sorts of sulky, though logically, he knows he can't leave them in. Harley digs around in the box of first-aid things and then gives Peter an apologetic look.

"No numbing spray. Sorry, babe." He hands Peter one of the cushions to hug and then resumes his work, snipping and tugging. 

Peter does his best to focus on something else, anything else. He thinks about the warmth of Harley's fingers on his skin, tiny points of heat. He listens to Harley's steady breaths, and the constant  _snip-snip_ of the scissors. Peter blatantly stares at Harley's look of concentration, the way his mouth is slightly open and the little wrinkle in his brow. Peter burns the image into his memory, wondering if Harley would concentrate on Peter _like that_ under any other circumstances, like slightly less clothed circumstances. 

Peter whines again, and Harley gives his thigh a little squeeze. Peter deliberately lets out a the most pathetic sounding whimper he can muster and Harley pauses. 

"We're almost done, Petey-pie, almost done." Harley strokes a light finger over Peter's side and Peter shudders, feeling guilty. He's so bad, he's so wrong for making Harley do this. He knows the older male will comfort him and Peter shouldn't take advantage but it's such a small thing, surely Harley won't begrudge him this?

"We can go do something you like later, okay? Think of something you wanna do later. We can go catch a movie, go pet dogs at the dog cafe," Harley continues.

"Dog cafe?" Peter interjects in excitement, momentarily forgetting the squicky feeling of thread being pulled through his flesh and skin.

"Yeah, it's way over on the other side of the city but we can go. I'll take you, just hold still okay Petey?" Harley places his palm just under Peter's ribs, covering up the worst of the bruising. 

Peter moves without thinking, putting his hand over Harley's. Harley smiles at him and Peter feels all swoopy in his stomach. 

"On your front, Peter," Harley says. Peter blushes as he complies. Harley bends over him again, intent on getting the last few rows of sutures out. His solid presence at Peter's back feels comforting, but at the same time, electrifying. Taller than Peter, broader than Peter, what would it feel like if Harley just, leaned down and - the older male could push Peter's shirt up further, kiss along Peter's neck and maybe push down his pants and - 

No.

He wasn't going down that road. No no no.

Peter huffs into the cushion, but the traitorous voice at the back of his mind keeps whispering all sorts of things they could do. Harley's tall enough that Peter would fit on his lap just nicely and - okay stop stop

"Doing okay Petey?"

"Y... yeah." Peter wants to cry at how high his voice is, how squeaky it is in the moment. 

"Almost done, babe. Hold still." And then there's that warm hand again, petting Peter's back, trailing down his spine to just above his tailbone. Peter muffles his moan in the pillow, reciting equations to keep himself under control. Harley seems to pick up on his distress, moving quickly through all the sutures and pulling them out as fast as he can. Peter is thankful for small mercies when Harley doesn't make him get up straight away. 

The other male gets up and grabs a clean cloth from the bathroom, wiping off the tiny pinpricks of blood where he pulled out the threads. Peter shivers at the contact and resolves to lie face down until his awkward boner has fully subsided. 

He can't tell Harley about this. He can't. He can't take the chance that Harley doesn't want him, that this will make things weird. Peter doesn't want Harley to stop coming around, which is sure to happen if Peter confesses this so soon. It's too soon. No, Peter is going to swallow all these feelings and not talk about them because he's not going to make things weird. 

"You wanna lie down a little more?" Harley asks. He pets Peter's curly hair. Peter nods, face still buried in the cushion.

"Do you want me to do your thigh too?" Harley asks. Peter shakes his head. He can't let Harley touch him there. He would lose control of himself for sure.

"Alright. I'll work at the kitchen table. Come get me when you feel like going out."

Peter nods again. He feels the hand move away and manages to hold back the whine of longing at the loss of contact. 

Instead, he takes deep breath after deep breath until all arousal is gone. Only then does he get up and take a shower. 

 

* * *

 

 

The dog cafe is every bit as exciting as Peter imagined. He squeaks in delight as the Samoyed wuffles her way up between Peter's knees, begging for treats and scritches. Harley laughs, holding a Corgi in his lap. 

Peter bends over, wincing only just a little when his back twinges. He doesn't care, there's a giant Samoyed! Peter digs his fingers into the dog's fur, giggling as the dog wiggles all over.

"The Corgi one's Libby, and the Samoyed is called Fluffdog," Trish the waitress says with a massive grin as she places two cups of hot Chocolate and one big slice of apple pie down on the table. 

"Fluffdog!" Peter exclaims. The Samoyed perks up at her name, smiling a big doggie smile. Peter turns to look at Harley. Harley grins back. 

"Eat your apple pie, Petey." Harley looks at him with such fondness. Peter wants more, but he can't ask for it. He's already gotten so much from the world, surely it won't give him this too? Peter doesn't deserve this as well. He already has all he needs. This is enough, Peter should be content. 

And yet.

"Feed me," Peter says. 

Harley obliges. picking up the fork and carving out a generous portion of apple pie. He blows on it gently, a look of utter concentration on his face, before leaning over the table and placing it into Peter's open mouth. Peter closes his eyes as he slides the piece of pie off the fork into his mouth and chews. It's delicious, just the right balance of tart and sweet. Peter makes a sound of contentment. Yes. He should be happy with what he's got. A mom, found family, an _inheritance_ of all things, and a fluffy dog to hold. It's everything Peter ever needed, it's more than he deserves. 

 

He should stop now. He should stop taking, stop asking for more, stop hoping for more. 

Peter opens his eyes. 

Harley is smiling at him, another bite ready on the fork. 

And yet.

 

_\- and yet...._

 

 

 

 

He'll stop, Peter promises himself. He'll stop this. 

 

 

Soon. 

 

Peter opens his mouth again, taking the next bite. 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Harley leaves the next morning with great reluctance. He keeps doubling back to see if he's missed anything but Peter knows he hasn't. Mainly because Harley didn't actually bring anything. Not even a toothbrush. May takes a new one out of their 'random stuff' drawer, tells Harley they'll keep this one for him, and then sticks it in the glass at the sink next to Peter's toothbrush. It's so utterly benign a thing, but Peter is stoked that Harley has a toothbrush _in his bathroom_ and then resolves to bring it along to the new apartment when they move in.

"Just go, I'll be fine, I promise," Peter tells him. Harley hesitates again, he turns back and gives Peter a big hug, pressing chapped lips to Peter's forehead.

"Please be careful. I don't want to lose you too," Harley says. 

"I will, I will I promise. I'll go see Daredevil tonight," Peter whispers, hugging back tightly "I'll make plans and get trained and everything. It'll be okay."

Harley finally _finally_ manages to get into the car. He drives off, but not without a wave and a mouthed 'take care' out the window.

Peter watches him go. He stands there for a little too long before finally turning around and heading inside. 

 

* * *

 

May is reluctant to let Peter go out again. Not so soon, at least, but she doesn't have a choice, not when both Wade and Daredevil text Peter telling him to be on a particular rooftop by 12 am. 

(Peter politely tells them that his curfew is at 11:30 pm and then they move it up to 10 pm on a different rooftop, which makes Peter wonder if they have certain schedules for certain rooftops. )

Peter promises to call May as soon as he reaches the place, and also to not engage in any crime-fighting involving any sort of large weapon. He prays for his own sake that he won't have to break that promise, and is utterly relieved when he makes it to the roof in question on time, without needing to do more than walk a young lady home. 

"Spiderman," Daredevil says. His voice sounds familiar. 

"Daredevil, Deadpool," Spiderman responds politely.

Deadpool just waves at him. The merc's mask is pulled up to his nose, exposing the scarred flesh underneath as he eagerly chows down on a large burrito. 

"So uh, Daredevil sir uh, mr. I kinda need a back-up plan if things go wrong, and also possibly hand-to-hand skills." Peter fidgets as he says it, his Spider sense giving off a ! every few minutes or so in the presence of something that feels like a predator. It's not a "Run away" sort of !, just a "strong and scary" kind of !, because he doesn't quite know Daredevil yet.   
  
Daredevil cocks his head to one side as if listening, then he takes a step backwards.

"You're a kid," he says abruptly, sounding surprised and also disgusted as he whirls around and sticks a finger in Deadpool's face.

"Kid was supposed to mean young, not literally underage!" Daredevil snarls. Deadpool throws up both hands in exasperation.

"How was I supposed to know he's underage? I just know he's young from the voice!"

"I'm not teaching a 15 year old how to fight!"

"16, I'm 16!" Peter protests, hesitates "Or is it 20? 21?"

Daredevil glares at him.

"That's not any better!"

"Well then I guess he'll just die then," Deadpool sneers back at Daredevil, "He knows jack shit about how to fight, all he has is his fancy suit, which isn't going to last long the way he's going!"

Peter's sixth sense starts going ! ! ! ! !  ! ! ! ! at him. He takes a step back, wary of whether the yelling is going to devolve into fisticuffs and whether this counts as crime-fighting if he's fighting the crime-fighters. 

"Guys," he starts, but he's ignored. 

"He's not legally a minor and you know it, he got vanished too. Legally, he's 20!" Deadpool is saying, gesturing wildly. Bits of lettuce get flung in all directions and Peter grimaces. 

"He's still in school! I can _smell_ the _ink_ from  _worksheets_ coming off him. Do you think a kid who's still in  _highschool_ should be out catching thieves and robbers and _going into space_?"

"You're not his **_goddamn_ **father, Red and you damn well know it! Either you teach him how to keep himself safe, or he's gonna get himself killed and it'll be _your_ fault!"

Daredevil rears back. Even at a distance, Peter can feel the hurt rolling off the vigilante. The two adults are breathing heavily. Deadpool's shoulders are squared and he towers over Daredevil but the shorter man doesn't seem fazed at all. 

"Since when has keeping your friends in the dark, ever kept them safe, Red. Since when."

It's not a question. It's a statement. Peter feels like a son caught in a bitter divorce proceeding, not knowing what went wrong, only knowing that somewhere, somehow, someone got hurt. 

"Um," he ventures. It serves to pull the two adults out of their heated argument. 

Daredevil takes a deep breath and turns his head to focus on Peter. 

Peter's sense immediately go !!!!!!!!!!! at the intensity of the regard and he has to fight his instincts screaming at him to run. 

"What do you know."

"Uh, I can throw a punch?" Peter offers weakly "I'm flexible and really strong, and I'm sticky." 

Daredevil massages his temples and sighs.

"Okay. okay," he says, more to himself than to Peter or Deadpool, "Fogwell's out. New management in place, we can't get in after hours. Mason's too highbrow, we're gonna get noticed. Dojo not super-friendly-"

"Weasel's got a place for the supers to train," Deadpool offers, sounding much more subdued than earlier. "It's called The Burrow and it's like three blocks from here. Jess goes there sometimes to kick some ass and get info."

Peter has no idea where it is, but he resolves to go swing around and find out. 

"We'll meet there, Tuesday and Fridays. Understand? Wear loose clothing, bring your mask, but no suit."

"Okay Mr Daredevil Sir," Peter says, nodding quickly. Deadpool starts laughing, which gets him a confused look from Peter.

"Please don't call me that," Daredevil says, sounding pained and a little scared. 

"The Mr and Sir carries a lot of responsibility," Deadpool says between snickers "He's gotta be respectable now that he's  _Mr_ Daredevil  _Sir_ instead of just Daredevil!"

Peter can't help the soft laugh that comes out from his throat. Yeah he can see how that would sound a little funny. He grins up at the two taller men, the !! from his sixth sense dying down to a subdued ?!, as if unsure if the danger has passed. He takes a hesitant step forward, then sinks to the floor to sit cross-legged.

"Tuesdays and Fridays at the Burrow. Got it," Peter nods to himself. "Now, about the back-up plan?"

Daredevil heaves a sigh of resignation. He starts to pace back and forth in front of Peter, ignoring Deadpool.

"Ideally, you should have two or three people who know your identity and know how to deal with injuries. You should also have legal representation if things go to shit," Daredevil says. He rubs one horn with his fingers, deep in contemplation.

"I've got people who know my identity, but one doesn't know how to deal with injuries," Peter says, thinking long and hard as he pulls out a notepad and starts to write. Technically, it wouldn't be hard for Harley to learn, but Harley's away in university. Maybe he could ask Happy? But Happy's not always around. The only other person he knows well, and is still in the city, is Flash Thompson. Peter crinkles his nose at the thought. Despite all the good things told about the now allegedly mature boy, Peter still have misgivings. Who wouldn't, after years of bullying? Peter files him away as a last resort. 

"They'll have to learn," Daredevil says, "Any time you're injured, you should ping both of them, to let both know your condition, then head to a predetermined location to recuperate. You should have at least one safe house away from your current residence, in case you're being followed and - what are you doing."

Peter looks up from his notepad.

"Taking notes?"

Daredevil looks over at Deadpool. Somehow, even with his mask on, he can convey dead-eyed incredulity of ' _are you fucking kidding me_ ' across the rooftop. 

Deadpool just rolls on the ground, laughing his ass off as Peter shrugs and continues writing. 

"Any suggestions on super-friendly legal representation?" he asks.

"Nelson and Murdock," Deadpool interjects before Daredevil can say a thing. They start glaring at each other again until Deadpool crosses his arms and says "Like you have a better idea?", to which Daredevil has to acquiesce and subside, albeit with bad grace. Peter wonders what Daredevil has against Nelson and Murdock, the two men seem perfectly nice. Then again, Peter supposes, a lot of people seem perfectly nice at first. 

"I'm going to have to tell them my identity, right?" Peter asks, frowning at his paper. The thought makes him a little wary, people knowing about him. Especially if Daredevil doesn't really like them. But Mrs Potts trusts them, and they _are_ helping Peter with the apartment and the investment funds. If he's already relying on them for so much, what's one more thing? He looks up at the two older men and gives them a decisive nod. 

"Nelson and Murdock it is. Now Mr Daredevil, you were saying about the safe houses? Should I booby-trap them?"

 Deadpool starts a slow clap in the background, evidently approving, even as Daredevil lets out a tiny noise of despair.

* * *

 

 

After Peter gets back from his discussion with senior vigilantes, he and May have a long, long,  _long_ discussion that also involves a call to Mrs Potts - who is upset that she had to learn of Peter's injuries _from the news;_  a ten minute conversation with Morgan who misses Pederpeder lots; a skype call with a grumpy Happy Hogan - who is busy at one of the new Stark Research Centres; and Mr Nelson from Nelson and Murdock. 

They sort of agree that it would be better to move into the new apartment as soon as possible, since the building is less occupied than their current residence. This means less people will notice if an injured Spiderman comes climbing in at a window. Mr Nelson - oh gosh Mrs Parker, please call me Foggy, oh wow, Peter, you're Spiderman? - agrees to help discreetly acquire a tiny unit on the  _other_ side of town. Both places will be fully stocked with supplies for first aid. 

The hardest part is reprogramming the Baby Monitor Protocol. Instead of alerting Mr Stark, Ned helps Peter change the contact list to May, Happy, Pepper, Harley, Daredevil, and Deadpool in no particular. Peter has to take a moment when Ned deletes Tony's contact from the program. That phone will never ring again, Peter thinks, but Peter's happy to have a long list of people he can call now. He has a  _team_ of people all looking out for his well being. How is he so lucky? Peter doesn't quite know. 

Everyone on the contact list is briefed. A sudden drop in vitals will result in an immediate ping to all the contacts on the list along with a location and proximity to a safe space. The safe spaces include his own apartment, the soon to be set-up flat on the other side of town, and Deadpool's place. Together, they form a triangle that cover most of the city.  It's not the best plan, and Daredevil says that it'll need a lot of fine-tuning in the future, especially if Peter runs into bigger crimes, but it's what Peter has for now.

It has to be enough. 

 

 

 


End file.
